The Destiny of Tears
by Ccw
Summary: A Chosen's destiny. Are prophecies meant to come true? Can you guarantee anyone's allegiance? Primarily set in Maplestory, with various modifications to items, skills etc. Emphasis on action and plot. Chapter 10 and onwards is written in 1st person.
1. Chapter 1

The first fanfic written by me, Ccw.

Hi all, this is my first time posting on . Basically, what you are looking at is a story that is loosely based on the maple world, with my own personal changes done to several monsters, skills etc. I wanted to stick to an RPG story, but also wanted freedom for the story. So expect to see references to Bleach, CABAL etc. Thanks for reading!

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Disclaimer.

This is just a random teenager's story, and I do not mean to infringe on any rights. I do not own anything that is mentioned in the story, so leave me alive please.

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**Prologue:**

She was coated in light.

"Do not fear, young one. The journey you will undertake is perilous, but you are one of the Chosen."

"Travel to the uncharted, accomplish the impossible. But beware. Things aren't what they seem."

"What do you mean!" he cried.

"You were once a fierce warrior. Regain that tenacity. I will set you on your way."

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Goodbye." She whispered.

What was that? He wondered.

Then, he blacked out.

**Chapter 1**

"Hey Laran! Keep your eyes on the prize!" someone roared.

His vision was blurred, and he was in a daze. "Where am I…" he groggily wondered.

"Who am I?" he thought silently.

"Laran! Move, now!" the same person shouted.

That's right. He remembered. His name was Laran. He also noticed that he was wielding a two handed blade. It was sleek and powerful, with just the right weight, a balance of speed and power. The hilt was jet-black sporting a design of a skull, and the blade was emerald green. It was sharpened to near perfection, and felt cold to the touch.

Then, something slammed into his stomach, blowing him off his feet. His head slammed full-force onto the floor. The pain was immense. He cringed, as his vision blurred at the edges. Blissful darkness came…

The sky was clear, with the warm sunlight shining brightly. Laran stirred, opening his eyes. He struggled to his feet. Other than his name, he didn't know anything else about himself. Did I have amnesia? Suddenly, his mind convulsed with pain. Dropping to the floor, he just lay there, paralyzed by the immense pain.

Just then, something blocked the sunlight. Laran managed to look up. It was an old man. He was nearly bald, with a few miserable white hairs stubbornly hanging onto his scalp.

"Get up!" he grunted grumpily, before pulling Laran to his feet. Laran stumbled about clumsily, before gaining his balance. Where was he?

"I found you lying on the roadside like a fool. Don't you know that sleeping on roadsides makes you an easy target for rogues?" he sneered at Laran.

Laran ignored him, instead analyzing his surroundings. He appeared to be inside a forest, and he could hear the cries of wild beasts nearby.

"Damn bowmen must be training again. Us warriors, we take'em down so fast that they don't even have time to cry! My students are especially the best, cream of the crop!" the old man said proudly.

That immediately piqued Laran's interest. That sword he had been wielding. Only warriors could wield a two-handed sword. Other classes wouldn't have been able to use it effectively.

"Take me to the warrior training ground." Laran spoke calmly.

The old man's eyes immediately shone. "You mean you want to be a warrior? Come with me then!" he exclaimed.

Laran nodded. He only remembered that he used to be a warrior, and that he and someone were fighting a monster. A monster so hideous that its image had burned deeply into his mind...

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Well, thats the end to chapter 1.

To quote my friend Trojan Pony (who wrote the Born To Burn story), I want like...2 reviews? Just say something short like, "Nice opening" or something. I'm not picky.

I already have chapter 2/ 3 ready, so i'l post it soon when i see the reviews.

Thanks a lot! See you soon.

CCW


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In no time, they were on their way.

"Really? Amnesia eh? Well, at least that's better than falling out of a freaking Martian spaceship." The old man who had introduced himself as Glen chuckled.

"Well, Earth is divided into different regions. There's no need to swim though, they're all connected by land. The forest you were in just now is known as Esuna. The land that we are going to is known as Panon, the land of the warriors. It isn't just limited to warriors though, anyone can go to any of the places."

"There is the God Kingsley watching over the land. By his sides, he has Pura, the goddess of light and Dura, the goddess of darkness. There are also many minor gods that grant people various powers. The people respect and pray to them. Its like a religion."

"There are 4 classes, the rogue, the warrior, the archer and the wizard. Healers, or clerics are considered to be under the wizard. I'l just tell you the specifics of a warrior. Most of them can either wield a two-handed weapon or two one-handed weapons. Shields are for wussies!" he exclaimed, beating his chest like a gorilla. Laran rolled his eyes in contempt. The man sure lacked brains.

"Everyone has a certain amount or arcane energy. Pretty cool, huh! If only I knew how to harness mine…Then I could be the most powerful guy ever!" he chuckled to himself.

Once they were at the warrior training range, Laran analysed his surroundings. They were in a desert area, with a clear increase of temperature from Esuna. There were many huts and houses again, and there were loads of people training with each other. Clang! Clang! A nearby blacksmith hammered the red-hot blade. The blade hissed, and with every strike, it got stronger. Glen waved at the blacksmith, who gave him a nod in return.

"Well, I'm going to test your potential, to see what level of training you should start at." Glen scoffed, "Looking at you, you'll barely pass apprentice level."

After reaching a hut, Glen kicked open the door and dragged out a box stuffed full of weapons.

"Grab a weapon and face me!" Glen shouted, after unsheathing two one-handed swords that hung from his back.

Laran focused on the lone two-handed sword sticking out of the box, striding over and picking it up. Laran weighed the sword carefully. The sword was a little heavy, but it would have to do. He gestured to Glen, daring him to attack.

Glen's mouth twisted into a sinister smile, before charging at Laran with his swords. Laran watched his actions closely, gripping his own sword tightly with both hands. Then, like a cobra, Glen suddenly lunged, his left sword slashing diagonally at Laran.

Laran dodged to the right immediately, but realized that he had fallen into Glen's trap. Glen's right sword stabbed at Laran almost instantly, but Laran managed to deflect the blow with his sword. "Nghh…" Laran groaned as he was blown backwards. Laran's eyes started itching, but he ignored it. Glen slashed ferociously with both swords this time, forming an X.

Instead of stepping back, Laran brought his own sword to bear, clashing with Glen's blades. Both of them grunted, now locked in a power match. Laran had been caught off guard by the old man's speed and strength. But he was fully concentrated now. Laran's eyes started to itch even more.

Glen suddenly pulled back his swords. Laran stumbled forward because of his momentum, temporarily losing control. Glen sidestepped and slashed horizontally. At that split-second, Laran blinked, "releasing" the itch on his eyes. Time suddenly slowed down. The blade continued on its path towards Laran, slowly slicing through the air. Laran swiftly leapt over the blade, and in one smooth motion, round-house kicked Glen in the face.

Glen skidded across the floor, and his blades clanged noisily. Dust was stirred up and settled. Glen slowly turned his dusty, dirty face to meet Laran's eyes. He wasn't shocked, but intimidated. "You…you have the mark of the god of time… The eyes of Terran!" he stuttered.

Laran's eyes were bright red, with a thin black pupil in the middle. Suddenly, Laran's knees turned to mush. He dropped to the ground, suddenly fatigued. It must have been those eyes… Laran thought before closing his eyes to sleep.

………………………………………………………………………………………………**.**

The goddess of light appeared yet again.

"You…you're Pura aren't you?" Laran asked hesitantly.

"Indeed. Listen closely Laran. You must seek more power, only then can you fufill your destiny as a Chosen." She spoke. Every word, phrase that she said resonated with such power, but at the same time, it also soothed Laran's soul.

"I can only answer one of your questions." She spoke.

Gritting his teeth, Laran asked, "Why am I here?"

"Because you have a greater purpose. We purposely brought you to the future with the others through the fabric of time. Your eyes of Terran that have been left by the God of Time is enough proof, no?" She grinned at him, like all this was just a joke.

"Damnit, I want ANSWERS! Why am I a Chosen?!" Larran shouted. He didn't appreciate being a pawn of the gods.

"All in time…" She whispered, before disappearing into nothingness…

Laran jolted, his head jerking forward as he awoke. He appeared to be in a room, with the walls painted a faint blue colour. There were a few posters of warriors on the wall, and even on the ceiling. He must be in the old man's house.

"Was that just a dream?" he pondered. He cupped his head in his hands. The events that had occurred were so unexpected. The Terran eyes. The manipulation of the fabric of time. What the hell indeed, he thought, crawling out of the bed. How did I even get here? Laran wondered. Then, he caught his own reflection in a mirror.

Laran was about 18 years old, and his face was oval in shape, with piercing eyes whose pupils were coloured black, and a slight frown on his mouth. His hair was untidy and hung slightly lower than his eyebrows. There was a prominent scar on his left cheek, in the shape of a T.

"You do know that you drool in your sleep don't'cha?" a sweet female voice sounded out behind Laran. Jumping ever so slightly, Laran turned around to see a female that was slightly shorter than him. She was a brunette, with large blue eyes the colour of the sky. Her hair was done up in a ribbon, and she wore a slight smile on her pretty face that suggested she was amused.

"I thought that you might like some food. They certainly aren't needed to survive but they sure are a delicacy!" she pointed to the bowl of steaming hot porridge she was holding delicately. The steam slowly rose up, dispersing itself into the nearby air. It was just like moments of life… Pretty, but non-lasting.

The next thing Laran knew was that the bowl of porridge was flying at him. Laran managed to catch the bowl, and sighed with relief. "Hey punk! Stop oogling my daughter!" Glen growled aggressively. Laran looked at him, clearly amused. Meanwhile, Glen's daughter blushed slightly before leaving the room.

"We have to talk." Glen said, motioning towards the door. Laran followed Glen out of the house, and he adjusted to the familiar environment of Panon.

As they walked among the various students who were sparring and training against dummies, Glen said, "I now realize. You are a Chosen aren't you?"

"But how did you…"

"You talk in your sleep. And drool, did'ya know that?"

Laran was getting slightly irritated and embarrassed. And more importantly, he wanted to know more.

"What do you know about Chosens?"

"Well, there was a prophecy about em', and stuff about them coming to the future."

"Tell me about the prophecy!" he demanded.

"Keep ur' pants on sonny. Here goes…" Glen cleared his throat.

"_When light and darkness combine,_

_The world will be at stake._

_The Chosens will gather._

_Therein lies the greatest battle in history."_

"That's it?" Laran asked carefully.

"Well, if I remember, there's more." Glen muttered to himself, before clearing his throat yet again.

"_A leader must emerge,_

_In order to defeat the scourge._

_He must first defeat himself._

_In order to defeat his enemies._

_The one he calls a friend_

_Will become his foe."_

"It sounded pretty cliche to me, but if you really are a Chosen, then…maybe this could all happen." Glen said thoughtfully.

Laran stood still. Light and darkness combining? The world at stake? How could this even happen?

Glen continued to voice out his opinion, "Defeat himself before his enemies? That's just stupid. You might as well stab yourself in the butt before…"

Laran cut in, "I need to gain power. More power. And so, I MUST start my training immediately. Understand?"

The old man looked into Laran's eyes. He saw nothing but determination in them. "Very well…" he whispered.

Somewhere into the distance, an ancient beast stirred.


	3. Chapter 3

As promised, i was faster this time round! But i'm running out of chapters, so the pace is gonna slow down. As in not the a chapter a day type of speed. I won't leave the fanfic dead!Fights for it. Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, most recently, CrapPishh, Randomness from Boredom, Kiiro-Chan and Trojan Pony! I think that should just reply here, since my comp is laggy, and clicking on so many links to reply is reaally slow.

CrapPish: Sorry, I was checking my mail and going from most recent to oldest lol. So your name ended up last. Its first now! inserts smiley face. Yeah, I'l try to put the people in order after this chapter. Thanks!

Randomness from Boredom: Thanks for the output. But even I was getting slightly confused with the prophecy lol, so i decided to make it a little simpler. Thanks!

Kiiro-Chan: Thanks for the positive view on the story haha. More coming soon. Thanks again.

Trojan Pony: I wanted to post this story under miscellanous, but even miscellanous had categories, which got me confused. Nah, u write better prophecies than me. Thanks!

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Standard Disclaimer:

I do not own anything mentioned in the story. Do i dare say that I own Terran eyes? Nah, i don't. shivers in dark corner crying

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**Chapter 3**

"How did you get chosen to be a Chosen anyway?" Glen mocked Laran's efforts, seemingly deflecting his blows easily. In reality, he was barely able to keep up with the hyper-active youngster. Laran's eyes itched uncontrollably. He had to learn how to fight properly without the use of Terran eyes, as developing a reliance on them would certainly be undesirable.

Glen dodged another swing by Laran, and punched him in the face, hard. Laran's stumbled backwards, giving Glen another opening. Glen kicked him in his stomach, making Laran fall flat on his back.

Laran flipped onto his feet in a very cool way, and concentrated his energies onto his sword. The sword glowed a faint blue, and started radiating pure arcane power. Laran took a deep breath and held his sword high above his head.

Laran slashed diagonally with his sword, at the same time releasing the pent up arcane energy. There was now a curved current of electric blue arcane energy flying through the air. It crackled and cut through the air, heading straight for Glen.

Amused with the youngster's power, Glen simply sidestepped, letting it miss cleanly. He then turned to face Laran, but instead saw a blade stabbing right towards his face. Glen, using his estimation skills gained through pure experience, realized that there was not enough time to dodge or bring his swords up. Instead, he punched upwards, knocking Laran's sword off.

Laran, taken aback by this sudden reversal of circumstances, accidentally let go of his sword. The sword flew over his head, and Glen raised his right blade to Laran's throat.

"You lose. Again. This makes it one hundred and ninety-nine to zero." Glen grinned sinisterly.

"I almost got you! I would've won if it wasn't for this stupid unbalanced sword." Laran lamented.

Glen suddenly slapped Laran across the face. Hard. "Don't you ever insult a sword. The spirit that resides within the sword will resent you forever. Also, unbalanced for you, it may be. But for someone else, it could be just the perfect balance. " Glen reprimanded him furiously.

"For a brain-dead teenager like you, I'm just going to have to make you understand what I mean. Through hard work. We're going to the blacksmith." Glen grunted before walking off. Laran shrugged, and had no choice but to follow him.

The blacksmith punched Laran in the solar plexus. Hard. "Oof…" Laran groaned, clutching his stomach and dropping to the ground. "You insulted a sword? Stupid teenagers." The blacksmith and Glen nodded to each other.

"I'm gonna show you the process of even making the sword that u hold in your hands. Now, how is the feel of that sword?" The blacksmith who had introduced himself as Makoto asked.

"It's a little heavy…" Laran replied, waving his arms up and down to illustrate his point.

"About how much too heavy?" Makoto inquired.

"About…750 grams." Laran said confidently, using his arcane power to aid him in his calculations.

"Hmm…interesting…" Makoto stroked his chin while looking at Laran.

Makoto beckoned to Laran. Laran entrusted his sword to Makoto, and watched as he walked over to the forge. The forge was filled up with charcoal, and Laran watched the fire engulfed them. The blacksmith made a rising movement with his hands, and the fire roared furiously. Makoto then held Laran's sword over the fire with his left hand, and he clenched his right hand into a tight fist. The fire, like a beast, pounced on the sword, twisting itself around it, rapidly heating it up. Laran could see that Makoto was concentrating immensely, tightening his fists until veins bulged from them.

"Glen told me that you were a Chosen. What was your previous weapon like?" Makoto inquired in a calm voice.

Laran described it to him.

"Hmm. Well, I think that its time to describe the features of weapons to you. Firstly, do you know of upgrade cores?" Laran shook his head.

"Let me start from the general picture. Certain weapons contain spirits. Namely, the more powerful ones. It is also possible to extract spirits or insert spirits into a weapon. If a soul is left inside a weapon for long enough, the weapon will naturally become more powerful. If you shatter a weapon, its spirit would temporarily be set loose, until it can be caught by a necromancer. Actually, anybody with powerful enough arcane energy can catch, insert or extract spirits."

Makoto lifted the sword out of the forge, and started hammering on it.

"Back to upgrade cores. Upgrade cores are actually hollow core that contain an element, a material, anything really. It can also contain souls. By itself, upgrade cores are extremely cheap, but upgrade cores with a rare element or spirit will fetch a much higher price. Anybody with arcane energy can merge upgrade cores into weapons. The weapon would absorb the properties of the upgrade core, occasionally reflecting it in design."

"Actually, my arcane energy isn't as powerful as others, so I can't properly merge the cores into the weapons. But you…I heard Glen say that you were able to manifest your arcane energy and use it as a weapon! That's amazing! Maybe you can finally put this item of mine to good use."

Just then, Makoto lifted Laran's sword and handed it to Laran. Somehow, it was now the perfect weight, Laran noticed as he weighed the red-hot sword.

"Now, when its still hot, it will be easier for the sword to absorb the upgrade core. Hurry, follow me!" Makoto was as giddy as a little child before Christmas, hurrying to another room. Laran followed, gingerly holding out the sword.

"Try this." Makoto gestured. Laran picked up the upgrade core. It was slightly smaller than his thumb, shaped like a bullet. It contained a tiny hilt inside, with the design of a skull.

"Argh!" Laran suddenly grabbed his head, as waves of pain shot out. Black stipes flew across his eyes, obstructing his vision. Then, they wrapped around him, and everything went dark.

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In case you guys haven't noticed, Laran is gonna have many more blackouts. I can just see it. If you have any interesting ideas for him blacking out, tell me lol. And thanks to Trojan Pony for erm recommending me. So i'm gonna recommend him back, like an advertisement.

Do you like prophecies? coughs yes

Do you like fire/poison mages? coughs yes

Do you like people called Tom? coughs yeah!

If you do, check out Trojan Pony's Born to Burn!

Yeah, I know i fail at marketing.

There's no review count for this chapter, even though I hope that u guys will continue posting reviews. I'l review your work too, as soon as i find the time...

Cya soon,

Ccw.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm back, and thanks to everyone who reviewed. Darned Noob, CrapPishh, Randomness from Boredom and Kiiro-Chan. I'l be overseas for about the next week or so, so I'l post Chapter 5 then. Be warned, chapter 5 is really short! Thanks for supporting Destiny of Tears!

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Disclaimer:

I do not own Laran, terran eyes, Makoto, or anything that is mentioned in the story. I own a computer though, and although its laggy, its a good computer!

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**Chapter 4**

He was back in the past.

"Great slaying there Laran!" the same person from his memories commented.

Laran looked around, only to realize that he was standing next to the "corpse" of a huge armoured skeleton.

"Who are you?" Laran demanded.

"Good joke." The person gave a hearty laugh and tossed something to Laran. Laran caught it, and looking closely, he could see that it was the same hilt that Makoto had given him, the same one from his previous memory.

"This one's yours. C'mon, there are more monsters to slay!" The person shouted out. To Laran, the person's features, his stature, everything was extremely blurred. He couldn't make out who the person was.

Then, the world suddenly flashed impossibly bright. The flash was so bright that Laran had to immediately close his eyes and shield them…

A wave of nausea overcame him. He doubled over, kneeling on the ground. "Hey, you okay?" Makoto asked, concerned.

Laran slowly stood up, his legs shaking ever so slightly. He placed the upgrade core onto the hilt of the sword, placed his hands over it and concentrated.

"Try to visualize it entering the sword." Makoto suggested.

Laran gently applied his arcane power to both the upgrade core and the sword. He could see the very particles that comprised of the sword shift to make way for the upgrade core. It started slipping into the hilt, slowly. Laran had to apply more and more arcane energy in order to keep the particles from each other.

Meanwhile, Makoto watched, amazed. Laran's hands started shaking. He was drawing out too much arcane power from his body. Only a quarter of the upgrade core remained sticking out. Laran's legs trembled badly, threatening to give way. Then, another force was cast over the upgrade core. Makoto was helping him.

Finally, with one final push, the upgrade core sank into the sword. The hilt flashed, and twisted into the design of a skull, the same one from Laran's memories.

"You owe me one…" Makoto panted, as both of them lay spread-eagled over the floor. Both were utterly exhausted.

Later on in the day, Laran went back to meet Glen at the sparring arena.

There, he found the old man sitting on a bench, deep in thought. As Laran took a seat next to him, Glen suddenly spoke.

"Four. I had four apprentices. Now they are spread across the land, each honing their skills in their unique, individual way. It seemed like just yesterday that they were under my supervision. Now, you are right here, in front of me."

Glen suddenly stood up, and pointed his left sword at Laran. Laran understood. One last fight.

Laran was able to grip his sword even better with the new hilt. His speed was much quicker with the balanced blade. Glen never stood a chance.

Clank! Laran striked with such speed that Glen was unable to respond. Laran feigned a horizontal swipe, before stabbing aggressively. Glen, caught off-guard by the youngster's speed, could only block the stab before falling to the ground, panting.

Laran looked at Glen, with a triumphant smile on his face. "You didn't get to two hundred."

Glen grinned in return, panting, "Give me a break!"

They stayed there for a few seconds, before Glen declared. "Judging by my age, I have not long left on this world. I want you to be my successor."

"But…" Laran protested, taken aback by the old man's sudden words.

"No buts. You are a Chosen. Who else could be a better pick?" he grinned to himself, "I…actually have nothing else to teach you. All I have left is to pass you my most valued possessions. I hope that you can make good use of them."

Laran followed Glen into his house. Glen brought Laran to the room that he was recuperating in. He took down the mirror, and lo and behold…behind it lay a wall. Glen placed his palm onto the centre of the wall, and without warning, the wall suddenly split into two.

"Wait here." Glen muttered, before heading inside and emerging with a small wooden box. He slided open the box, to reveal a cellphone, 10 small rocks with the words (ARCANE INC.) written on them, a map, and a scroll.

"Firstly, this cellphone has so many capabilities that I can't even begin to describe it! In addition to being able to call others, you can use it to form arcane energy connections! Cool huh! Next, these small rocks actually allow you to store arcane energy inside. What you can do with them is entirely up to your imagination. The map…well, its self-explanatory, I've marked down the locations of my apprentices so you can seek them out. They will train you to become even stronger."

"And finally…the scroll. DO NOT open it until you absolutely have to. This will increase your power exponentially, at a great risk. Just read out the inscriptions to activate it."

Laran nodded, taking all the items gratefully. He bid farewell to everyone in the town, and set off for the first apprentice, at the Mountains of Moria, south-east to Panon.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Tempest Slash!" Laran shouted, swinging his sword down and releasing the pent-up arcane energy that he had built up inside the sword.

The crackling electric blue of arcane energy flew bit deeply into the armoured hide of the wolf. Deeply coloured magenta blood flowed out from the wound. The wolf howled in pain, before succumbing to its death.

Laran stood far from it, still holding the stance he used to release the arcane energy. He had recently named that killer technique. "Still not quite up to standard," he muttered, sheathing his sword behind his back, samurai style. He should have literally sliced that wolf into half with the amount of arcane energy that he had pumping into his attack.

It had already been 4 days since he left Panon. According to Glen, he should almost be at his first apprentice's area of stay, the mountains were just another kilometer more.

He searched the wolf's body for any valuables. Sometimes, monsters carried items that they stole from people. "Finders Keepers" was the rule in the world. They usually concealed the items in upgrade cores. As such, everyone needed to check the items inside the upgrade core before fusing it into a weapon.

Everyone knew the famous story of Amai. He fused an apple that was inside the upgrade core to his dagger. He proudly paraded around with his "edible dagger", making a fool out of himself. Some ignored him, a few applauded him, and the majority beat him up for making a ruckus.

He found an upgrade core in one of the various compartments of the wolves' armour. Looking inside, he found a tiny spellbook. Extracting the spell book from the upgrade core, he saw its title. It was titled "Arcane manifestations", and spoke of how to manipulate one's arcane energy to form armour. Intrigued, Laran read on.

_The key idea is to harness one's arcane energy and shape it. Once the user is able to imagine the shape and form, he must then embark on the most difficult step, integrating it into the design that he has came up with. The most successful users are able to make the arcane objects to bear the exact same qualities of the actual products. If successful, the user would receive protection_

Laran steadied himself. He would attempt to form a chestplate. As he concentrated, the flow of arcane energy coarsed slowly throughout his body. Smiling at the familiar feeling, he close his eyes and begun to imagine a black chestplate with red dragons at the shoulder plates. The arcane energy coarsed even faster. Laran's muscles tensed, as he focused even more. His eyes shut themselves tightly, and he held his breath.

After he sensed that the transformation was complete, he opened his eyes and examined his chest. There was a flimsy silver metal vest, instead of a fully formed chestplate. Laran was not really disappointed though, he knew that he had to practice to perfect his skills.

"Not bad. For a warrior." A voice rang out. Laran twisted behind, to see a figure dressed in grey robes, holding a wand. That person was sitting on a nearby rock, with his legs crossed over each other, examining Laran. From what he could infer, the person was a wizard.

"Your arcane energy…it's pretty powerful." The wizard got off the rock and walked towards Laran.

"But…for a Chosen, its just ordinary. And yes, I've been following you ever since you left Panon. That's how I know. I'm still having my doubts though, how could a drooling fool like you truly be a Chosen?" The wizard said a-matter-of-factly.

"In fact, check this out." The wizard raised his wand. Boom! Arcane energy exploded in the form of an energy blast.

Laran felt the force pushing him back several feet, but he managed to stand his ground.

"Hey…you didn't fall over. That's good…" The young wizard grinned.

"How about a bet? If you can defeat me, I'l give you this." The wizard held up an upgrade core. Looking closely, Laran could see a silvery strand that looked like a liquid slithering about in the core.

Laran immediately realized two things. Number 1: That silvery thing was a spirit! Number 2: That wizard must be a Necromancer!

He recalled Glen's advice before he left.

_There are two types of Wizards. The elementals and the necromancers. The elementals are especially skilled in manipulating elements of nature, fire, water etc. The necromancers on the other hand…well you can guess what they can do._

"And if you win?" Laran asked

"Its no fun taking things from the weak." The necromancer laughed aloud.

Laran drew out his sword. He had no idea what Necromancers could do. I am so…dead. Laran thought to himself.

"Ready when you are." The necromancer waved his arms, mocking Laran.

The ball was in his court.

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To be continued.

Well, thanks again to all those who supported Destiny Of Tears. See you all in a week!

Cya soon

Ccw.

P.S. I'l advertise Randomness from Boredom soon. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'd state your names, but im REALLY swamped with work. As in i'm in some really deep crap. So Thanks everyone, and enjoy Chapter 5!

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Disclaimer: I do not own anything stated in the story. Nuff' said.

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**Chapter 5**

Laran stood still, sweat flowing down his neck. He contemplated his strategy, observing the necromancer, looking for an opening. He knew a glaringly obvious flaw of the necromancer; he was too overconfident. And he would pay for that.

Laran rushed towards the necromancer. He knew the most immediate thing that he had to do, to get into middle ranged combat. Too far and he would get blasted with arcane magic. Too near and he wouldn't be able to use his two-handed sword effectively.

The necromancer waved his wand in a circle, and Laran saw a faint glittering in the air around him.

The necromancer pointed his wand at Laran, and screamed out, "Shadolt!". A concentrated ball of dark energy flew towards Laran, who tried to parry it away. However, as soon as the ball made contact with the blade, Laran realized what a fool he had been. The ball weighed a ton! Just to push away the ball, Laran had to strain himself. A lot.

Nevertheless, he continued charging at the wizard. Now in range, Laran swung his blade horizontally. He had to try to fool the necromancer with normal sword attacks, using Tempest Slash only when he had the appropriate window of opportunity.

The blade was just about to slice the necromancer, when Clang! It was deflected off a force field. It must have been that silent spell that he casted! Laran thought. Laran looked up, only to see the necromancer with his wand pointing straight at him.

"Shadolt!" another ball of dark energy flew towards Laran. Laran dropped to the floor, and attempted to slash upwards. The necromancer stretched out his hands, palms facing Laran. The sword hit the force-field again.

"Torolt!" The necromancer cried out. Swords suddenly pierced out from the ground. Laran reacted quickly, jumping back. Now what!? Laran thought anxiously.

Skeletons were rising out from the ground. Some wore army khakis, some wore tattered trousers, and some didn't even have clothing. A few were wielding axes, swords etc. while others were unarmed.

"Serve me." The necromancer grinned, pointing his wand straight at Laran. Laran tensed himself. The most efficient way was to go straight for the necromancer. Take down the King and his pawns fall.

"Kill." The necromancer sent the message to his undead, prompting them to charge en masse towards Laran. The undead charged, sounds coming from the contact of bone against ground. The air was filled with the clattering of armour as a few heavily armoured skeletons shuffled quickly towards Laran.

Laran dashed towards the necromancer, slashing the skeletons with so much force that they crumbled into bones. An axe swiped at his head. Laran focused arcane energy on his sword, and swung so hard that he cleanly sliced the axe into two pieces. The sword continued on its way, smashing the skeleton's skull into bits.

"Damn. If only I could get to him faster!" Laran thought urgently, punching a skull off the skeleton. Laran suddenly stopped in his tracks. Laran suddenly stopped in his tracks. He held his sword high above his head, similar to his pose before unleashing the Tempest Slash. He started gathering arcane energy again, resulting in the familiar light-blue aura around his sword.

"Tempest Hurricane!" Laran yelled. Instead of releasing his energy into a concentrated wave, he just let it explode.

Rather than explode like the necromancer's arcane energy did, Laran's resulted in a hurricane, which swept and cut the skeletons into pieces. Laran directed the hurricane towards the necromancer.

Standing firmly on his feet, the necromancer steadied himself, right before the hurricane smashed into him. Or more specifically, his arcane shield. He grimaced as he took the attack head-on, his shield absorbed the damage, leaving him panting in exhaustion.

Meanwhile, Laran was slowly dragging his feet towards the necromancer. That power of the attack left him badly shaken. He had already exhausted more than half of his arcane energy.

"Shadolt." The necromancer spoke softly, releasing yet another fully charged dark energy ball. Laran had no way to avoid it. He had to reveal his trump card.

"Tempest Slash!" Laran yelled loudly, slashing his sword and releasing that outburst of blue arcane energy.

BOOM! The two techniques clashed with each other, colliding in an extremely impressive display of power. Smoke erupted, completely engulfing Laran.

"Interesting…" The necromancer scratched his head. A tiny glint of metal sparkled somewhere in the thick smoke.

"Aaargh!" Laran screamed, thrusting his sword straight at the Necromancer. He had activated his Terran eyes, and they were blood red. He was sprinting towards the Necromancer with whatever strength he could muster.

The Necromancer was unable to focus in time, and got stabbed in the arm. No! Laran thought. Although his strike drew blood, the wound was still too shallow. The necromancer did not specially shield that part of his body, but his passive arcane guard still gave him some protection.

The necromancer's face contorted with pain and anger. How could this worm have hurt him? He would pay. The necromancer swiped his wand at Laran. "Magic Claw!" he shouted in anger, swinging his wand

Dark blue arcane energy flashed from his wand, leaping and biting deeply into Laran. The ferocity in which they slashed and bit into him were as if they were wild animals with razor-sharp fangs. Laran was rapidly pushed back, and he thrusted his sword firmly into the ground, to stop himself from moving back anymore. His face stung, and he tasted copper in his mouth. He looked at his chest, only to see the arcane vest ripped to shreds, and his chest full of bloody cuts.

"Your debt is not repaid yet!" The necromancer screamed, resurrecting the undead, causing them to rise up and continue their death march towards Laran.

The necromancer, consumed in fury, continued swinging vigorously. The blows stung Laran badly, drawing blood. The terran eyes were also beginning to take their toll on Laran, making him weaker by the second. Then he saw it. That window of opportunity.

Laran stood firmly, just soaking in the blows. He felt renewed by the opportunity he now had.

Everything's fair in War.

--

Next chapter coming when i refine it properly. I don't want to submit some crapped up piece of work.

Im really sorry for not submitting reviews to your work, the people who reviewed me. I promise, i'l do it when i get out of this mountain of work. Thanks!

Cya soon

Ccw


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys. Its been a long time. Well, i've made up my mind to start reviewing at least some work of my reviewers, so there! Anyways, thanks for the reviews, Randomness From Boredom and Kiiro-Chan. Shadolt is kinda like Shadow Bolt in WoW, although i just played WoW's trial version for 1 week...Haha. Really, thanks guys. Without further ado, lets go!

...

Disclaimer: I'm a no good hobo with little possesions. If i owned Wizet, or basically anything in the story that actually has value, i would be rich!

...

Chapter 6

Laran felt the adrenaline gather from within him, as his body tensed up. There's only one chance, he told himself. Only one chance to take him down.

The skeletons remaining edged towards him. He didn't have much time left to execute his attack.

The necromancer was too caught up in offense. It was the perfect time to counterattack, to take him down in one swift strike. But how? Laran wondered desperately, clinging on desperately onto his sword, which was stuck firmly into the ground. That's it! He cried out silently.

Meanwhile, the necromancer slashed relentlessly. "If you beg like a stray, I may just decide to let you live!" he laughed insanely, "No one injures me and gets away with it!"

Laran could feel his energies slipping away with every claw that cut into him. His vision blurred, then cleared, then blurred again. No more time...he thought.

"Tempest…" Laran muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" The necromancer edged slightly closer to Laran.

"SLASH!!" Laran suddenly bellowed. He forcefully drew out all the arcane energy he could muster. He could feel the arcane energy being forcefully drained from him. The sword sucked everything in, like a ravenous black hole eager to consume.

In one swift motion, he grabbed and swung the sword out of the ground, releasing the arcane energy. Releasing was the wrong word. He just let it explode out towards the necromancer.

The attack shot out towards the necromancer with incredible speed, stirring up the air to form a strong current of wind. The pure force of the attack was evident, Laran was blown backwards by his own force, falling back first onto the ground.

The necromancer's eyes widened as he saw the tsunami that was arcane energy howling as it lunged at him. "Shadolt!" he cried out. It just dissipated as it met Laran's attack.

"Damn you! Shadolt! Shadolt!" the necromancer cried out, his voice wavering in fear. He was desperate. He watched as his spells crashed harmlessly into Laran's attack, and the slash of energy loomed ever closer.

The slash of energy smashed headlong to the necromancer. The surprised necromancer didn't have time to put up his secondary barrier of arcane energy. The strike ripped past his backup force field and slashed diagonally across his chest. He was lifted off the ground, eyes wide open, stunned. Then, he collapsed heavily onto the dirt floor, knocked out straight. Blood dripped from his wound, pouring onto the grass and dirt.

Laran felt extremely fatigued as well. He shut off his Terran eyes, and tried to stay awake. Sleep was coming to him, slowly but surely. He tried to lift up his body, to continue moving. My sword…he thought, reaching out to his sword which lay just a metre from him. Then, he shut his eyes, embracing that familiar black.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Is his quest going smoothly?" a voice asked.

"Of course it is. Everything is going swimmingly. The fool doesn't suspect a thing." A familiar voice spoke.

Laran opened his eyes. He was in a place completely filled with darkness, and two distant figures were talking. He began making his way towards them.

"Excellent. It will all be complete in no time…the new era of darkness." The first being sounded out grandly.

"We need to seek some help from a human."

"I know who to ask. He too is interesting in the bringing of a new Age."

"What do we have here?" the first being turned to look at Laran. "Our Chosen. The harbinger of darkness eh?" It laughed. There was a kind of hollowness in the way it laughed, the complete lack of humanity, of feelings, of…a soul.

"I'l see you soon." The figure pointed a finger at Laran, and his eyes suddenly activated. The Terran eyes felt like they were on fire, making him yelp uncontrollably. Laran squeezed his head in pain, desperate to stop the jarring pain. The heat was becoming unbearable, he forcefully shut his eyes and he could have sworn he heard sizzling and burning on his eyes. He forced himself to calm down, focusing on his heartbeat which was wild and erratic. Then, it cooled down, and Laran opened his eyes.

He was blind in the darkness. The silence was absolute. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see that he was in a misty room. It was cool and humid, but he seemed to have slightly more difficulty breathing. Suddenly, a door opened, flooding the room with bright, glaring light. Laran had to shield his eyes from the sudden burst, before the lights in the room came on.

"Welcome to my humble home. Your training shall begin soon…Chosen." The figure that opened the door extended his arms towards Laran. That was all he saw before he drifted off to sleep yet again.

"Argh! Damn you!", the same voice woke Laran up with a jolt. He groggily opened his eyes, to see a palm flying straight at his face.

"Ouch!" Laran cried out, as the palm connected with his right cheek. He cupped his cheek, and looked straight at the person who slapped him. He was a middle-aged man, with long golden blonde hair that sparkled when the sunlight reached it and glowed when it didn't. He had small, focused eyes, with a rather flat nose and he was scowling.

"That'l teach you to drool on my pillow!" The man proclaimed loudly, his hands on his hips.

Laran looked down at the pillow, to see a rather generous portion of it soaked in his saliva. Oops. He did it again.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" the man shouted yet again, this time slapping Laran across his left cheek.

"Ouch…" Laran groaned, this time cupping both his cheeks. The man sure was violent.

"I heard from Glen that a young warrior would be coming to learn under me. Judging by the way you slobbered all over my pillow, that flood on the bed is more than enough evidence."

"My name…is Xenious. I am the master of spirits!" As he spoke, a wind suddenly gusted upwards behind him. Pieces of undead charms flew up behind him, twirling gracefully in the gust of wind. His long flowing robe waved in the gentle wind, with elegance and majesty of a lion-ballerina hybrid combination. Then his blonde hair blew all over his face, obstructing his view of Laran, and Laran's view of him.

"Damn! This always happens!" he exclaimed unhappily, stamping his foot like a child. Meanwhile, a woman stepped out from behind him, surprising Laran.

She was slightly shorter than Xenious, with a wafer-thin body. She had small curves throughout her body, and she held her head up delicately, as if balancing her weight was a truly challenging chore. She seemed to be a rather petite and gentle woman.

"How many times have I told you to use something to hold your hair in place? That's the last time I'm helping you out with this!" she stormed out of the room.

"But I wanna look like an anime character! And who else is going to help me with the fanning and the throwing of charms? Honeeeeey…" he chased after her like a desperate schoolboy after a girl who was paying him no attention.

Laran rolled his eyes. Weird people. Then, he noticed a note on the table. There was an upgrade core next to it. Laran held up the letter. It read,

"You lucky son of a gun. You are lucky you even survived. If I was fighting you using my REAL power, you would've been toast. I'l take you on for a rematch anytime! You ain't gonna luck out forever. You defeated me, so I have no choice but to see you as ALMOST an equal. The upgrade core I promised you is on the table. Anyway, here's my number, XXXXXXXX. I also took one of your arcane energy stones from your bag and left you one of mine. When the time comes, you can establish a connection between the two stones, and I'l teleport to your location through the arcane connection. Train hard! If not you will never be able to match up to my REAL power.

P.s. Have you met up with other Chosens yet? We need to find out where our brothers and sisters are to fufill our destiny.

Signed,

Raccious"

"So that's his name…Raccious eh?" Laran thought.

Then a sudden realization struck him. "Brothers and Sisters? That means…he is too a Chosen…"

BeepBeep, Laran's cellphone rang. Picking it up, he saw that it was from Xenious.

"Meet me under the waterfall to start your training. Bring that spirit in the upgrade core."

Laran stretched himself, shaking away the last of his morning grogginess. No time to waste.

...

Hooray, the modern-day cellphone sees some use! Well, the next chapter is kinda complicated, so it'l take longer... Meanwhile, i hope to see 3 more reviews before i post the next chapter! Thanks again guys!

Cya soon,

Ccw.


	7. Chapter 7

The owls hooted,

Chapter 7

Screams. From the dark eagle soaring above, from the undead that would never find peace with their souls, and in his heart. Screams of pain. Anger. Screams when one's pride is wounded deeply, when one's heart of ambition is pierced, when deep scarlet blood flows into the ground.

Raccious sat on the ground, in the middle of the long deserted cemetery. He had been defeated, found by some random passerby, and healed. Although that Chosen…What was his name…Laran, had also faced the prospect of death, he still survived longer in the fight. Laran was the last man standing.

Damn. He was supposed to be the heir to the long line of necromancers in his family. The last 5 generations of his family all consisted of great necromancers. They had all contributed to Earth. He knew he was a Chosen, and that even more was expected of him. Pura had personally informed him of that. She had also given him a piece of information that haunted him to this day, forming the very reason why he believed he existed for.

He had been training non-stop for the last 3 years. While others preferred to take a more standard path under Necromancer Instructors, he had trained on his lonesome, coming up with original techniques. Another added benefit was that he was more in touch with his natural element. The darkness. He could call on a large number of skeletons, undead, and creatures of the dark in general.

His main problem was that he was too complacent. Even he knew that that was his _hamartia_, his tragic flaw. He always got too caught up in the battle. It was like he was being possessed by someone…or something.

He shook the thought off. He would have to concentrate on training. Defense in particular. He drew out his wand. "Synchro rate is at 20 huh…" he thought. He would get it up to 25 by the end of the night. Him and Venom would achieve it.

"Consume the living. Venom!" Raccious called out, transforming his wand into a Onyx-coloured staff, with a diamond orb at the very top. Venom was a top-quality spirit, one that had been passed down in his family for many generations.

"Spar with me." He summoned a pack of zombie wolves. They rose out from the ground, crackling with dark arcane energy that surged through their fangs. Sensing that there was blood to be drank, they snarled, acid saliva dribbling down their chin.

5 on 1. Easy.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"I'm gonna teach you something that's gonna boost your power exponentially if you know how to use it. Fuse that uprade core into your sword please." Xenious spoke.

The atmosphere was very relaxing, the air was humid and the sky was coloured a delicate shade of blue. There was a rainforest off in the distance, and the waterfall in front of them beat and churned the water that flowed in a river.

Laran started the process. He had much experience fusing upgrade cores ever since he left Panon, but this was extremely difficult. The soul at first refused to go into the sword, fighting back against Laran's arcane energy. It kicked and floated, fighting against the push of Laran's arcane energy. The thing had a mind of its own.

Xenious had been studying Laran. When Laran finally finished the process, the sword exploded in white light. It shimmered and shone, before looking exactly as it had been before.

"Your spirit seems to be a stubborn one. I've never seen a spirit fight with such tenacity against it's soon to be master. Cut your finger and let the blood drip onto the sword."

Laran winced slightly as he bit into his thumb. He let a single drip of blood fall onto the sword.

Drips

The sword glowed red this time, but almost instantly it reverted to original. Except that there were now runic inscriptions running along the middle of his sword.

"You are now linked and ready to synchro." Xenious grinned.

Before Laran could ask what in the word he was linked to, a voice sounded in his head. It was deep, tainted with the scars of pain. Laran sensed that the spirit was an old one.

"Yet again. I have been summoned yet again. To roam the earth for all time, that is the punishment for my sin. And I have to answer to snot-nosed kids like you." The spirit growled unpleasantly.

Laran retorted out loud, "I'm not a snot-nosed kid!" without realizing it.

Xenious snorted in amusement, "More like a snot-mouthed kid. After you defiled my pillow, the river continued to my bed! Now I have to get new bedsheets as well!"

Laran shut his mouth hastily. If he did that in public, people would probably think that he went mad.

He conversed with the spirit. "Watch your mouth! I'm a Chosen!"

"Oh drool on me! Now that we're linked I can access your previous memories. And boy are they messed up. But there seems to be a certain mist when I attempt to prod deeper…hmm…amnesia?" Laran could feel the spirit poking around inside his head.

"Shoo! Mind your own business!" Laran swatted his own head in a futile attempt to shake the spirit.

"Say pleeaaseee." The spirit sang cheekily.

Laran was pissed. It turns out that although the spirit was experienced, it also took on the personality of a retard.

"Fine. Please." Laran talked to the spirit nicely.

Instantly Laran felt the spirit calm down, from a rapid prodding of his mind to a slow, relaxed swirling.

"Alright. Time for you two to synchro. Just try to embrace each other's soul, you two should share the same body, same stream of consciousness…same life."

Laran relaxed himself, giving the spirit more free reign. The sword was his connection between the spirit and himself, and he gripped it tightly, holding onto that connection with an iron vicegrip.

What is your name…he asked himself, the spirit in particular.

The pain of living…I have faced many trials…Just call me Rejection…The spirit had returned to its calm composed mood.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Xenious watched. He was immensely interested in how the Chosen would be able to synchro with his weapon. Usually, the person would call out the name of the spirit residing within his weapon when activating synchro mode. With a higher level on synchronization, the person would be able to allow his or her movements to flow fluidly with the spirit, drastically increasing his or her combat prowess.

Tiny rocks started floating around Laran, a testament to the arcane energy he was using to synchro. There was a faint rumbling in the ground under Laran, it seemed as if a minor earthquake was occurring.

"Let your tears streak the sky! Rejection!" Laran bellowed. He slammed his sword into the ground and let his arcane energy explode. A flash of white light covered a radius of an entire mile, and Xenious had to frantically shield his eyes before he got blinded.

When the light faded, Xenious opened his eyes eagerly. And there stood Laran.

Everything about him seemed the same, yet there was definitely something different. An explicit difference was that now there was a faint aura around him, and that the sword had morphed. It was now glowing slightly cobalt, with the same skull hilt, and now it had shrunk to the shape of a one-handed sword.

Laran inspected the sword with much interest. The weight became lighter, but the speed to power ratio had actually increased. (This means that while the sword got lighter, the power increased). No. The sword wasn't the correct term. Rejection was.

It turned out that synchronizing with Rejection also gave Laran a calmer state of mind. It was as if an encyclopedia of ancient knowledge and skills had been crammed into his head, and the sudden influx of information and knowledge had allowed him to transcend his state of being. He not only felt more powerful physically, but also spiritually. The cut on his finger had also healed when he synchronized.

He happened to notice a small hologram-like meter floating above Rejection. The meter was only slightly filled from the bottom.

"That's the synchronization meter, Right now, you have synchronized only 5 with your sword. Basically, as you get closer to Rejection and fight more battles with it, your meter will increase when you decide to go into synchro mode."

"Try going into the rainforest to test your new abilities. I'l be waiting here for you when you are done." Xenious instructed Laran before heading towards the waterfall.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"I sense that there is a strange stirring in the world! The EXs have been restless. Some have even emerged from the underground cavern!" Kingsley spoke urgently.

His voice echoed throughout the grand hall in which they were all in. They were in the Kingdom, the place where all the gods lived. There, the air was fresh, the weather cooling, and buying property had an awesome system of 1 downpayment. Everyone was happy, except for the poor property agents who had to chase after their buyers for the payment. They were in a room. It was painted completely white, with a few pieces of furniture, giving it a rather barren look. There was a gigantic hardwood table, with numerous chairs propped around it. The people at the table comprised of all the gods. Minor, Important etc, all the gods were there. Except one.

"Where exactly is Dura!?" Kingsley questioned.

Everyone around the impressive round table muttered to each other. No one was completely sure of where she was. A few lost souls looked around, confused, before making a little noise to give the impression that they were actually discussing something.

Kingsley sighed. Although they were all gods, they had to settle this the old-fashioned way.

"Alright, alright. Everyone, write any information you have heard recently about Dura on the piece of paper."

The piece of paper was slowly passed around the table. Everyone scribbled what little they had to contribute before passing it.

Half an hour passed, as the gods waited impatiently for their turn. It was a big table.

Finally, the paper reached Kingsley. As he prepared to read aloud the rumours, he heard a loud clattering noise that no doubt belonged to _them_.

"Damn you medieval knights, stop making so much noise in your armour!" Kingsley yelled at the group of knights unhappily.

The leader of the knights slid down his helmet to reveal himself as King Arthur.

"Well, the grand hall is the only place that actually leads to a functioning bathroom! We are having enough trouble finding a hole in our armour to carry out our business already! Whats up with your attitude! First you steal our patented round table, then you make a fuss out of our attire!" Arthur complained, as his knights booed the gods.

The gods booed them back.

After some time

Kingsley cleared his throat. Nothing to warm himself up like a session of childish debating against the knights of Camelot.

"Ok, I will now read out the ideas regarding Dura's disappearance. Firstly…wait, who the heck wrote KIA?"

Silence ensued.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Crickets chirped, leaves rustled and the shadow cast by the canopy layer of trees loomed over every creature in the tropical rainforest.

Somewhere in a deep cavern, a spider spun its web swiftly, with the grace of a gymnast and with the skill of a craftsman. Before long, an unsuspecting fly flew into the near-invisible web, getting stuck in the process.

The spider, sensing that its prey was now trapped, eagerly made its way towards the fly. The fly struggled and squirmed, trying to break loose of the thickly bound strands that bound it to the web. As the spider approached, the fly struggled even more furiously. Its efforts were futile, as the spider leapt onto the prey, biting deep into its flesh. The venom seeped into the wound, numbing it. The spider immediately went into action, spinning a dense web to completely restrict the fly's movements.

This was the natural process of predator and prey. Except that the spider could hardly be considered a spider. It had 10 legs, each as thick and powerful as a tree branch. Bits and pieces of steel daggers were attached to the spider's limbs, giving the impression that it was more artificial than natural. It had a single bulging eye, swirling from side to side providing it with an almost 180 degrees vision. Its fangs were as huge as elephant tusks, and they hung outside of the spider's mouth, with venomous liquid slithering down. They were sharp like razor blades, and could easily tear human flesh to shreds. A single strike would be fatal.

The mutant spider, after carefully wrapping up its tiny meal, retreated into the darkness, ready to strike in an instant. It was almost invisible in its element.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Become one with your sword. That is all." Xenious had said, sending him on his way. Xenious wanted Laran to train himself and achieve better synchronization before personally teaching him. As such, Laran was now roaming about inside the gigantic tropical forest, looking for enemies to train on.

So far, all he had encountered was a pack of ordinary wolves. They certainly were rather weak, as Laran dispatched of them in a few strikes. Laran wanted something more challenging, something that would force him to activate synchro mode.

"ROAR!!" came a sound from nearby. Laran was immediately alerted, slowly twisting in a circle. He had absolutely no idea where an attack could come from.

"Die, Human." A deep voice rang out, before a majestic rain tree was shredded to pieces by a lunar shaped spear. The silhouette of a huge beast towered high above him.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiii…" Laran didn't have time to finish his sentence, as a Tauromacis tore through the tree like a rhino, with his trident pointed straight at Laran. It had a silvery mask of solid titanium, its neck bulged with veins and its horns were a deep orange.

Laran rolled out of the way just in time, right as the Tauromacis charged past. The Tauromacis' speed was astounding. Laran examined it hastily.

It was easily 3 times his height, with muscles that threatened to rip apart the leather buckle that held its bare armour together. Its body structure was similar to a human, if the human was the child of a wrestling superstar and an Olympic sprinter. Oh, and if it took steroids from the day it was born. Although Tauromacis were known to possess limited intelligence, their brute force battle prowess more than made them worthy soldiers.

The minotaur smashed apart trees and boulders before it skidded to a halt. It approached Laran with haste, swinging his spear at Laran with the effort an elephant took to crush a dog.

Laran did a direct counter-attack, stopping the spear with Rejection. Although the Tauromacis was not even using its full strength, Laran struggled to match the creature's attack.

The Tauromacis seemed surprised, letting its guard down for a second. Laran saw the creature's muscles relax for a second, signifying that it was taken aback. He set his left foot forward, and pivoted around it, swinging his sword as he would swing an axe.

The keen blade bit deeply into the Tauromacis' tendon on its right leg. It roared with anger, and Laran was rocked by the sheer shockwaves that vibrated through his body.

Laran grimaced. Even Rejection was unable to sever its leg. The Tauromacis' flesh was like it was made of iron. Laran whirled around, trying to cut into its other leg.

However, the Tauromacis had learnt its lesson. Its right leg jerked backwards, slamming into Laran before he could attack.

His saliva flew out of his mouth before he had a chance to realize what was happening. His back collided full-force with a particularly thick tree, temporarily paralyzing him. He felt like he had been hit by a runaway train.

"What are you waiting for? Get up!" Rejection sounded from within Laran's mind. He quickly pulled himself up, wincing as his body ached and protested.

"Let your tears streak the sky. Rejection!" Laran transformed into Synchronization mode in a flash. The adrenaline rush numbed the pain he felt, and he felt a rush of euphoria. At the same time, he was incredibly calm. The opposing forces were like identical waves crashing into each other from both directions, before settling slowly. His senses were augmented greatly, giving him a somewhat limited 360 degree sixth sense.

He noticed that the meter read 10 synchronization. He had achieved 15 through his meditations and training, but his stamina went down dramatically whenever he pushed himself to that level. His stamina and arcane pool increased proportionally to the synchronization as he shared his body with Rejection. Which meant one thing.

"Terran!" Laran activated his Terran eyes. He dashed towards the Tauromacis speedily. It roared and released a single thunder strike from its spear. With his Terran eyes activated, Laran could see clearly the path of the projectile.

Dodging with ease, he was almost directly in front of the Tauromacis. "Tempest Slash!" the razor-sharp wave of arcane energy targeted the Tauromacis' mask. The beast raised his crescent mooned spear, deflecting the blow. It snorted in pleasure. And then blood spurted out from the back of its legs, causing the Tauromacis to collapse heavily onto its knees.

Laran had used that technique as a distraction, hastily dealing severe damage to the Tauromacis' legs. Rejection surged with arcane energy, before releasing yet another Tempest Slash. The Tauromacis twisted around labouredly, lifting its spear again. As the Slash collided head-on with the spear, Laran simultaneously appeared behind the Tauromacis. To the naked eye, it would seem that Laran teleported, however, he was just moving at an amazing speed.

With all his strength, Laran thrusted Rejection directly into the Tauromacis' spine. Rejection passed through thick flesh, before reaching the spine. For a split moment, Laran panicked, afraid that he would be unable to succeed in his attempt. Then, there was a sickening "CRUNCH", as Rejection violently sliced through the Tauromacis' spine, sliding fluidly through the rest of the flesh. The tip of Rejection peeked through the Tauromacis' chest.

There was a lowly growl from the Tauromacis, as its entire body tensed…and relaxed as it embraced death. Laran withdrew Rejection, before cleaning the blood-stained sword on the grass. He took a deep breath and looked at the corpse. What was a Tauromacis doing in the middle of a rainforest?

"Not bad." A voice whispered quietly. Laran snapped to attention, looking up just as a hooded figure stepped into the clearing.

Laran took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Another opponent?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was a majestic castle. It stretched to a magnificent height of 1000 feet, and there were more than a dozen rooms filled up to the brim with solid gold bars and bags of gold coins. No, rooms were the wrong description. They were much more spacious than that. Quite a few were interlinked, giving the visitors the feeling that they were within a dungeon, only that this one was intrically designed by a master artist who honed his skills for eighty years. After he completed his task of transforming the place into something Da Vinci would be proud of, he was of course executed. The designs were meant to be unique after all.

However, the person who owned the castle only used the rooms higher up in the castle as attic space. He preferred the large hallway, with stunning red carpets laid across the entire area. The windows were made of translucent glass, letting light filter through ever so slightly, just enough light to illuminate the area. The light fell on him, casted a dark silhouette of him over the bright patch of light.

Elegant paintings and handsome silver suits of armour were displayed proudly on either two side of the room. And of course there was the icing on the cake. All this lead to the fantastic white wedding cake of a ceiling, with an impressive golden chandelier hanging from it, looking as if it were extremely pleased with itself.

The castle was of course linked to the deep underground, where his loyal followers carried out his orders, and work. The coffee room there was fantastic, with gigantic bags of marshmallows, sugar, and the highest grade coffee beans all on the shelves. The coffee beans were specially obtained from his farms that were spread all over the world, in whatever region it could be grown.

Making his way to his throne, he sat down grandly, as a king would sit upon his position. "Why is the Titan of Sin so agitated over an ordinary kid?" He pondered.

He sighed, throwing his head back gently. His dark bangs shuffled themselves peacefully, as the wind crept through the openings in his windows and into his santctuary.

His face wore a perpetual smile, a rare smile seen by one maybe twice or thrice in a lifetime. It was a smile that radiated confidence, purity, and of course charisma.

However, what lay behind those eyes were sadness, and an eternal loneliness that could never be satisfied.

"If only you were still here…father…" Anger raised its ugly head, as he remembered how his father had untimely met his demise.

"You shouldn't have done it…You should have just let him died…" He muttered.

He stopped himself, feeling the rush of tears to his eyes. Would his wounded soul ever find solace? He shook off the saddening thoughts.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. "Time to go to the armory," he thought. Sparring was the best way to clear his mind. Acquiescence awaited him there.

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Her ponytail bobbed about restlessly as she leapt from tree to tree. With incredible grace, she landed on a branch, landing softly like a cat, before her strong yet slender legs pushed off against it, pouncing unto the next branch. It was simply mesmerizing to watch the fluidity in her movements.

"I have to get there as soon as possible!" she thought urgently, dashing towards her destination.

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"I see that your skills are improving..." The hooded figure whispered.

Laran was caught aback. The voice was somewhat familiar.

"Who are you?"

"There is no need for you to know. Just watch."

The figure spread apart his arms. His cloak opened, to reveal a dark mass of objects clinging tightly to it.

"Enjoy the show. But learn from it. Improve. We need you." The voice was crisp and authoritative. Laran swore he heard a slight crackling in his voice.

The bats flew at Laran, en masse, their glittering black wings filling up his vision. Laran rolled to one side…to realize that they weren't attacking him. They swarmed over onto the cold, limp body of the Tauromacis.

"Rise. Darkness Reborn!" The necromancer whispered, as he raised both hands. Laran noticed that his hands were empty. This was no ordinary necromancer to perform magic bare-handed.

The bats seemed to dissolve into the Tauromacis' body. The motionless body started to rise, a graphite surface spreading quickly over its skin.

"What in the world…" Laran was completely shocked. Usually when undead were summoned, their skin was a pale grey. Also, they could be summoned out without the use of bats, so why did the necromancer specially choose to use bats?

The Tauromacis was now on its feet, body completely covered by the hardening graphite. It's eyes were completely white, and saliva was drooling from his jaws. It took a step forward, and Laran could actually see the torn tendons somewhat reattaching themselves, tying a disgustingly ugly knot. The gaping hole in its chest healed instantly, leaving a deep scar where the wound used to me.

Laran frowned. The situation didn't look good at all. He glanced at the necromancer. He was standing about 10 metres away, hands tightly folded, like a mentor watching his pupil.

"Darn, he's too far away for me to directly attack him…" Laran cursed.

The Tauromacis growled, a reminder to Laran about its ugly presence. Laran took a fresh grip on Rejection, his Terran eyes focusing. Grabbing its crescent-shaped spear, the Tauromacis charged at Laran. Mysteriously, Laran felt as if it were easier to use his Terran eyes than before, although he had already expended quite an amount of energy.

As his mind started to drift off to wonder about explanations for the phenomenon, Laran willed himself to concentrate. A rampaging Tauromacis and a separate formidable opponent was no laughing matter.

Laran was used to the tauromacis' movement. He estimated the number of steps the Tauromacis had left to take before he would be in range to counter-attack, confident that his experience in the previous battle would help.

"3 Steps left." Laran thought silently. He was ready to unleash a Tempest Slash just as the tauromacis landed in front of him.

One. It bounded powerfully, its legs completely disregarding the fact that its tendons had just recovered. There was still well over 3 metres between them…

Two. Laran closed his eyes and summoned arcane energy, something that was getting more and more difficult, due to his stamina pool being drained. He opened his eyes, to the shock of his life.

The Tauromacis was right in front of him, ready to pounce. At the next moment, he was instantly pinned down, the tauromacis raising its fist. Laran instantly panicked, trying to jerk himself out of the unfavourable position. He was too slow, as the crescent spear slammed into his shoulder, squeezing his entire right arm into the ground. A jab of pain shot up his arm. Damn! It must have been dislocated!

Lightning quick, the Tauromacis slammed its fist straight into Laran's stomach. Still reeling from the previous blow, this one took Laran completely off guard. Crimson spit flew as he gasped for air.

"A monster revived by the Darkness can draw on twice of its physical limit. It breaks almost every limit normally imposed on its body, even healing it somewhat. However of course, it loses most of its intelligence and the body is useless afterwards. But for this Tauromacis…heh, I've already weakened it specially for you." The necromancer whispered. Laran thought he could sense arrogance in the man's voice. What a bastard.

"I'll leave you to it. Survive this…and I'll see to it that you are rewarded." The necromancer flung his cloak around him, and bats immediately crowded, obstructing him from view. Then, he was gone.

The Tauromacis snarled, and with its muscular forearms, closed around Laran's waist. Trying to muster enough energy to strike back, he attempted to break free of its iron clasp, but his struggling was to no avail.

Its forearms bulged, and its veins looked like they were going to pop, just as Laran felt his waist compress painfully. He clenched his teeth, hoping to fight through the pain, but it was useless. His ribcage felt like it was caving in, his arms shook and Rejection slipped from his grip, falling softly onto the dusty ground. Laran's sweat streaked face grimaced. The pain was so great that he was starting to black out. The blurring of the vision was getting worse, as the world and its colours swirled around. The synchronization meter dropped to 0%, and his Terran eyes dissipated. Laran's strength ebbed away, as the world disappeared before his eyes.

Then, blissful darkness.

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The girl had reached her destination. Perched onto a rather large tree branch, she scanned the area. She could only see 1 person there, what happened to the other one that she sensed? Her mind however, snapped out of its wondering to alert her. That teenage boy was getting crushed by that Darkness Reborn Tauromacis!

She quickly drew her shiny new weapon. Although she had grinded quite some levels with it, she still hadn't perfected her rapport with it yet. Synchronization! Hawkeye! She willed herself, without a single sound.

"Help has arrived." She whispered softly.

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_The following is from Laran's POV._

Where…am I? I was surrounded by darkness. For a brief second, I was disoriented, before my mind descended to the state of relaxation. It was just so peaceful here.

My head hurt. I gently massaged it, when I noticed that the Tauromacis was gone! So was the nerve-wrecking pain present in my shoulder and stomach! I felt good. Was this death? With the pain numbed, and the stress removed, I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

I squinted at a point of light in the distance. I slowly trotted over to it, enjoying the soothing glow that it provided. I was captivated by its simple beauty, swaying from side to side while approaching it.

"Are you really giving up now?" a voice sounded out. It seemed to be coming out from the beam of light. It sounded a lot like Rejection.

"I didn't train you to be so weak!" another voice spoke up. It was Glen's! Before I could shout out in defiance, to let him know that it wasn't my fault, another voice chipped in.

"Use the sword…from within." A third voice, Makoto's, joined in, like tunes mixing together in a melody.

My expression twisted to one of embarrassment. That line was just pure cheesy.

And suddenly, a deep, powerful voice disrupted them all. "Survive. And fufill your destiny. Or else." Instantly, the voice stroked a chord of fear that resonated deep within me. At that moment, I was actually more afraid of the person…or thing rather than my actual death.

The ground then shook violently,

A huge explosion seemed to have occurred outside of the light.

"Go. Now!" the voice commanded me like a puppet.

The next thing I knew, I was yanked uncontrollably to the light, sprinting towards it, arms outstretched, my legs pumping up and down, and I leapt towards it…

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_End of Laran's POV._

The Tauromacis snorted in disgust at the corpse. It felt a sense of pride, having literally come back from the grave to take sweet revenge. It bellowed loudly, a resounding battle cry that challenged anyone in proximity to hear it. It grinned, its mouth twisting into a broken mess of teeth and blood. Time to finish the job.

It lifted its foot high over that pathetic human. He would literally be in shreds soon.

Its moment of glory was promptly ended, when four arrows sailed, burying themselves into the Tauromacis' left shoulder. They were barely three centimeters apart. Its eyes widened as it saw what type of arrow they were. Meaty hands scrambled, desperately trying to remove it when…

Boom. The noise of the explosion was deafening.

The Tauromacis stumbled forward, thick, dense black smoke sprouting from the wound. The combined explosion of the three Arrow Bombs had torn a hole in the graphite armour, and blood was steadily trickling down it. It groaned, stumbling forward with the aid of its spear. The damage wasn't fatal, but it still hurt.

A glint of light appeared before the Tauromacis. A split-second later, a solid spear of lightning speared through the Tauromacis' left shoulder. Its eyes widened, completely taken aback.

"So you can feel pain after all. Hell Spawn." Laran emerged from the smoke, tightly clutching the lightning spear protruding from his palm. It was an extension of him, electrical currents flowing straight from his body to the spear, and vice versa.

Laran's body coursed with electrical energy. He had never felt so powerful. His Terran Eyes swirled around, and evolved. It was now a dark swirl of blood red and charcoal black, leaving no pupils at all to be seen. He looked like a demon.

_The following is from Laran's POV._

I felt my eyes itch yet again, just like the time when I was fighting Glen. This time, I released the itch as soon as possible, grasping for new power. It felt good. I felt comfortable with the surges of power. I wanted more. To never feel threatened again. To discover more about my past. To do that, I needed power.

I felt rejuvenated, refreshed. Although my right arm hung limp by my side, I still had my left, clutching tightly to that powerful spear.

I had no idea how that lightning spear had materialized. But I didn't care. All I wanted was revenge. On the monster that caused me so much pain.

_End of Laran's POV._

Laran drew the spear out smoothly, and with one swift, smooth action, violently slashed across the chest of the Tauromacis. The lightning seemed to possess life of its own, ravenously chomping into the graphite, tearing it apart. Bits and pieces of flesh flew out from the Tauromacis' massive chest, prompting it to grunt in pain. The flesh split, and unveiled scarlet red.

"I'm surprised you can feel pain. You should've just stayed dead!" Laran charged. Confidence flooded Laran, as he flexed his arm, lightning crackling ferociously.

The Tauromacis howled in pain, and thrust its spear at Laran, lightning crackling from it.

"With these eyes, you are now no match for me!" Laran growled, without breaking a stride.

Laran riposted fearlessly, drawing in more electrical energy from the Tauromacis' attack. Absorbing it effortlessly into his pure lightning spear, Laran blasted a wave of electricity straight at the Tauromacis' face. Although the helmet was enough to deter some of the damage, it nevertheless blinded the Tauromacis, leaving it scratching at its eyes in a frenzy.

"Fry in hell." Laran whispered menancingly.

He aggressively stabbed the Tauromacis' stomach, piercing straight through it. And summoning the reserves of his energy, he released his arcane energy through the lightning spear. The spear bulged and pulsed, as its voltage increased drastically. The lightning cut deep into the Tauromacis' flesh, and spread across its body like a virulent virus. The graphite conducted the electricity well, but it was a pity that flesh did not.

The Tauromacis' shook uncontrollably, as it lost all control over it body. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, as the electricity tore the Tauromacis apart. Laran snarled, and with exhilaration, withdrew his lightning spear, having it recede deep into his body.

The Tauromacis stood still for a moment…before spectacularly crashing onto the floor. That bloody corpse recoiled, sparks jumping through its body like a shark in the ocean, having devoured its prey. It was a gruesome sight.

Laran's eyes reverted back to normal, and he too fell unto the floor, gasping for air greedily. He had exhausted himself, past his limits. The bloodlust that had previously possessed him like an angry spirit had left, leaving him as he truly was; a tired, weak teenager.

He coughed, flakes of blood flying out. The taste of copper spread across his mouth.

The girl, still crouching on the tree, was at the same time, amazed and shocked. She had never seen a person materialize a weapon out of their arcane energy. Advanced magicians could do it, but they could only sustain it for a few seconds, before flinging it at an enemy as a ranged weapon! Wielding an arcane energy weapon…it was just a legend!

And those eyes…they were not human. She could sense the evil suppressed inside them. But those thoughts would have to come later. The first thing she would have to do was to heal him.

And with her shiny new red viper hanging tight to her back, she leapt down the tree, landing without any impact whatsoever.

She examined the Tauromacis to ensure that it was dead. Its heart was no longer beating, and its body was so badly damaged that it wouldn't be able to stand up ever again. She noticed something that didn't quite fit in. Why were there splashes of dark arcane energy over it? It looked as if…a curse had been cast on the Tauromacis to weaken it. From the rotting flesh, she assumed that it must have already been weakened severly before its battle.

A sharp gasp from behind prompted her to spin around, hurrying over to the severely weakened teenager.

Laran lay there, crumpled in a heap, barely breathing. He was suffering from over-exerting himself, his heart, lungs, muscles all working feverishly to keep him alive. His will to live was extraordinary.

He felt a vial being pushed in between his lips, and the warm, bitter liquid entered his mouth. Recognizing it as the bitter taste of an elixir, he grudgingly swallowed.

He felt strength flood back into his body, like a tsunami being held back by floodgates. The comforting warmth spread across his body, the healing properties of the elixir being passed through his bloodstream.

In no time, he sat up, back propped up against a tree. It was then that he saw this girl inspecting him curiously.

"And who exactly are you?"

The girl flicked her head backwards, sending her short hair swinging back. Her gray eyes stared right at Laran's deep black ones. His eyes looked tired and seemed to stretch on endlessly. The scar that stretched across his left cheek made him seem more vulnerable than menancing.

Laran was also inspecting this strange girl. A white bandanna sat on top of her head proudly, a tight form-fitting green Piettras around her torso. A matching green Piettra Skirt was displayed prominently. Yellow Pierre shoes fitted her nicely, and a pair of slender hands were hidden behind her gloves; Gold Scalers, snugly wrapping around her hands. She couldn't have been more two years older than him.

"How did she get her equipment to be green?" Laran's mind wondered.

"She dyed it you fool." Rejection mumbled.

She cleared her throat, as if to attract Laran's ever shortening attention span, before declaring loudly.

"Just call me Clora. I'm your older 'sister'."

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Somewhere far away, Raccious stirred. He could not believe what he just saw. It was like a vision… or was it just a dream? A migraine came suddenly, overwhelming him.

"It's been getting worse…ever since I met Laran…" Raccious' fists clenched tightly, fighting through the pain…

He felt as if he was losing control over himself.

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"Excellent. The boy has potential. He will make a good pawn." A dark voice chortled with laughter.

"I told you so." A smirk was explicitly heard, carried in a giggling voice.

"Aren't you ashamed to wear a heart so white on your sleeve?"

"Not at all. My lord. I thank you…for the power that you have granted me. Dura will be safe with me."

"I have absolute trust in you. My fool of a daughter was always too rebellious anyway."

"Sorry my lord, but I must leave immediately to attend to business. Kingsley is about to appoint the Gatekeeper to protect Pandora's Gate."

"Go."

And with a flutter, she was gone, leaving gray feathers behind in her wake.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, either this chapter or chapter 10 is my final update before a little something called the End Of Year Examinations. Thanks for your support guys.

Special thanks goes out to CrapPishh for suddenly reviewing a whole load of chapters, Randomness From Boredom for actually sticking with this story so far, Nimajneb and HonestNinja for reviewing. As you guys should know by now, i'm not really the kind of guy who responds to every review with an overly long message, but I assure you all, I appreciate the reviews, and of course take into consideration all the comments and suggestions.

On another note, I'll be taking Randomness' advice, and in the next chapter, i'll try writing scenes that have Laran in them as first person. His POV. Without further ado, enjoy DoT's latest chapter, which has finally broken the 4000 word barrier!

...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the story. Except maybe a couple of cool techniques, thats all, i swear!

...

Chapter 9

"Ready?"

"I've been ready for this since I watched Naruto!"

"Fine. You do know that this is the last time I'm helping you right?"

"Yes yes, just get it over with, Lana."

"I implore you to reconsider. You look retarded enough already."

"Nuh uh. I'm sure about this."

There was a flash of a permanent black marker, as bold strokes swiped across Xenious' right cheek. In a split-second, the black marker skidded across Xenious' left cheek. It was out of control, sliding and slipping. Lana's eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat rolled down her forehead, got into her eyes and… It was done.

Xenious picked up a mirror and looked at himself. Excellent. He was now an exact replica of Naruto, having the marker drawn whiskers, the ridiculously orange jumpsuit, and of course the prized headband slung over his head in a rather fashionable way.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm a Naruto Dattebayo!".

Lana cringed. Her husband was painfully childish and immature at times.

"Ok, now that we're done with this crap, can we move on to talking about that boy? Laran was it?" She asked irritably.

"Ah, yes." Xenious' face no longer bore that look of sheer retardedness.

The atmosphere was noticeably tenser.

"He is definitely not normal. Whether it is for the better or the worse, I have no idea. Even for a Chosen, he is warped!" Lana quipped.

"I feel that there is something lurking inside him, other than Rejection and his own soul, there is an additional invader. I think Glen must have noticed this as well, that's why he told me that he had given Laran the Scroll of Perseverance"

"Scroll of Perseverance?"

"Yes. It is used to test the person's willpower, and to free them of their impurities. I don't know the exact details, but it is said to…help the person face his or her inner demons."

"So that scroll would help us find out what the problem with Laran is?"

"Indeed."

"What do you intend to teach Laran next?"

Xenious paused, considering the question. The only thing that he truly specialized in was the manipulation of spirits. Other than that, he was considered rather useless.

"Nothing. The bird has to leave its nest."

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_Beep Beep._

Laran checked his cellphone, to find a message from Xenious telling him to stop leeching on his supplies and asking him to seek training elsewhere.

"…" Laran was unhappy with his harsh attitude.

"So. Why aren't you wearing any proper armour for protection? You are a warrior right?" Clora quizzed Laran curiously.

"It restricts my movement, it's uncomfortable, and most importantly, the only armour I can wear now looks fugly." Laran stated in a matter-of-factly way.

"Hmm…" Clora scanned his level, resisting the urge to state that he was no Prince Charming himself. He was only about level 41, but he had great potential hidden within him, being able to defeat a weakened Tauromacis. All he needed was a good mentor, and of course proper equipment. She looked over at his weapon that he clutched tightly. She had never actually seen that sword before.

This boy was just full of surprises.

But then again, at level 43. she wasn't exactly the best person to mentor him. She would just have to stick around with him and find out more…

"Hey big sis, why are you still using that Red Viper? Isn't the Vaulter 2000 more powerful?" Laran inquired.

"Its none of your business!" she snapped.

Laran was clearly taken aback from her violent outburst. He quickly changed the topic.

"Errm, so where are we going to next?"

"A nearby cave. Right now we are at the edge of both Panon and Esuna. There's something I need to pick up. In order to reach the cave, we'll be progressing deeper into Esuna."

She set off immediately, her back facing him. Laran grumbled something about her aloofness, before jogging to catch up with her.

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Glen was hard at work, training aspiring warriors at the training range. As he taught them the basics of Power Strike, his mind wandered over to Laran.

The boy certainly had a couple of truly unique techniques. Half magician, half warrior, what WAS he? Could he possibly be of the mythical hybrid class? The conditions that were needed to be taken to become a hybrid were incredibly difficult to fufill, and achieving hybrid class meant that one would have to take huge risks.

"Oldie Glen! Oldie Glen!" a young apprentice, no more than 12 years old ran over to Glen, snapping him out of his daydream.

"Wait wait, who the heck are you calling Oldie Glen? 20 push-ups, now!" Glen's ego was understandably bruised. He liked to cling on to the idea that he was still a fit, albeit slightly older man.

20 push-ups later, the apprentice was up, huffing and puffing. "Oldi-err, I mean Master Glen, Sitting Bull wants to meet you. It's concerning Operation Revival."

Glen grabbed his swords immediately, hastily making his way to Sitting Bull's hut.

"So, it has begun…" Glen thought, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding him. He raised an arm to open the flaps, and saw Sitting Bull meditating, deep in concentration.

Sitting Bull's appearance could be described using just one word. Hulking. He dwarfed many, and with his impressive physique, he exuded a powerful aura. Indian markings covered his body, and his messy jet black hair was sprawled over his back.

"So," Sitting Bull spoke as Glen entered. "I have managed to secure the services of Manji; that warrior that enjoys hanging around in the outskirts of Panon. He will be a great help in Operation Revival."

"Can you guarantee his allegiance to us?" Glen remembered Manji as a shifty-eyed combat veteran. He had the stealthy aura of a rogue, and a pensive melancholic attitude towards life. Manji treated everyone with aloofness, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Glen had felt bad vibes coming from him.

"Trust needs to be earned Glen. Now, let us commence Operation Revival in 2 hours, when the sun sets. The next time it rises, the purging will have been complete. Panon will be no more." Sitting Bull spoke confidently, pride and determination radiating from him. The tension was palpable.

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Laran was blind. The pitch black darkness was eerie, as images of monsters and imaginary enemies flashed in his mind, tormenting him. Stirges screamed, as they swarmed overhead, throwing Laran into a jittery mood. Clora had rushed ahead, leaving him alone and defenseless.

Laran felt the ever growing urge to flee surface again in his mind. It was hard to admit it, but he was scared. Pushing away the thoughts of failure and feelings of despair, Laran calmly sat down, brainstorming of solutions to the lighting problem.

"Eureka!" Laran voiced out loud. The phrase was coined by the alchemist Eurek when he discovered how to use upgrade cores on items that weren't being equipped. Personally, he didn't give a damn about the discovery, but boy did he like the phrase.

Laran concentrated his arcane energies, trying to produce the lightning spear again. He could visualize it in his mind, but when he tried to make it materialize, the image would slip out of his grasp, frustrating him immensely. It was pointless to continue, so Laran compromised. He formed a crackling ball of electricity by clenching his left fist, which helped to light up the cave to a small extent.

It seemed that he could only wield the lightning spear when he had enough mastery of his arcane energy, something that emerged during a life and death scenario. Laran sighed. He certainly did not enjoy putting his life on the line to achieve greater power.

Clora had said that the lightning energy was imbued within him, that it was possible to convert normal arcane energy into that lightning energy. But how did he even gain that ability? Only Ice/Lightning Mages were able to accomplish such a feat.

Light emanated from the electricity, as Laran progressed through the cave. He was making good progress, when he stopped abruptly, taken aback by what lay in front of him.

The cave had spread out to form a huge grey dome. Its diameter was about 400 metres, a quarter of a mile wide, with stalagmites and stalactites protruding in various places, made out of solid rock. There was a small lake in the middle of the dome, gracefully sparkling, as if happy to be the icing of the cake, the part that beautified the dome. It was a magnificent example of natural structures.

Laran took a step, admiring nature in its entire splendor when…he saw it. That big ugly grey spiral shaped structure suspended high above the ground. It was a massive stirge hive. The sign of it sent a resounding message echoing through Laran's mind "Mind your own business." Laran slowly maneuvered himself around the hive, spotting an additional tunnel behind the hive that no doubt led deeper into the cave.

"This'll be an excellent test for my new babies…yeah yeah." A mysterious voice giggled.

Laran twisted around, to see a slender figure crouching near him, inspecting a kumbi throwing star. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't noticed her presence at all.

"Yeah yeah! Adamatium Advarice…check. Synchronization…check. Haste..." she seemed to be going through a list.

"You want haste too yeah yeah? Taking on the hive'll be pretty difficult."

Laran felt his physical weight decrease exponentially, while simultaneously, felt his heart plummet, as his amazingly slow mind realized what she was going to do. It was a unique feeling.

Before he could protest, the feisty girl sprinted towards the hive, something that could very possibly be the thing that would kill them.

Laran looked down, and sighed. He gripped onto Rejection, taking long strides towards the hive. He sure as hell didn't want to die alone.

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"Lucky Seven! Lucky Seven!" that strong yet feminine voice rang out, as four kumbis glided through the air elegantly, before ripping apart four stirges.

"Tempest…Hurricane!" Laran unleashed the pent-up arcane energy, letting it explode into whips of fierce wind, which cut deeply into many stirges.

He took a breath of air. Although it was still difficult to use Tempest Hurricane, his stamina had increased over the last few grueling days to allow him to utilize it several times.

"Synchronization!" Laran activated Rejection's hidden prowess, transforming it into the sleek one-handed sword. With Haste and Synchronization, Laran felt as if he were floating on air.

"Terran!" His eyes flashed, as they swirled to form the demonic Terran Eyes. A familiar feeling of security came back to him, as he grinned in spite of the situation he was in.

The stirges rushed at him, forming an arrowhead formation, their shrill voices squealing what seemed to be death threats.

Laran's mind worked nimbly, as a plan popped out of a deep crevice in his mind. The plan was unique, challenging, and for once, made sense. Just what the doctor ordered.

Working quickly, Laran ran in the opposite direction, away from the stirges. He tensed himself and kicked off from the ground, his inertia propelling his body towards the wall.

He grunted slightly, as he twisted his body such that his legs were facing the wall. With much needed concentration, he managed to cushion the blow to his legs by bending down just as he made contact.

Time to make it or break it, Laran thought.

"Right foot, anchor!" Laran grunted, as electrical arcane energy burst from his right foot, biting into the wall, making deep indentations. The arcane energy was helping him "stick" to the wall! His head slightly spinning, he steadied himself, just as the approaching stirges grew ever larger in his line of vision.

Adrenaline pumping from the acrobatic stunt he accomplished, Laran took a fresh two-handed grip on Rejection, preparing to unleash hell on the stirges. He smirked at them, knowing that they would be flying towards their deaths.

"He's good yeah yeah!" The female assassin quipped enthusiastically, as she narrowly dodged a particularly large stirge. With a flick of her wrist, a kumbi soared through the air, fluidly decapitating the stirge.

"Looks like I can't be lazy yeah yeah!" Her face instantly warped from a relaxed expression to a solemn one. Digging deep into both of her shuriken pouches, her fists reappeared, effortlessly clutching onto 4 kumbis in each hand.

"Lucky Seven!" her voice rang out as eight kumbis swiftly brought death upon eight stirges. A cheeky grin formed on her face. She was just warming up.

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The villagers, huddled together at the base of the capital of Panon, had their eyes fixated on the three warriors making their way towards the home of their king, Soitoru.

There were rocky flights of stairs everywhere, leading to the higher levels and vice versa. It was like being in a huge maze. Cliffs and mountains stretched out proudly towards the skies, and from a bird's eye view, the entire region looked like a mass of brown and orange.

Soitoru had decreed that no one were to disturb him. Only he communicated with the peasants, not they with him. There was absolutely no way of getting in contact with him short of smashing down his front door. And these three looked like they were just about to do that. The bodyguards of Soitoru remained vigilant, and did what they did best, standing around and looking badass.

"Listen up. Here's the plan." Sitting Bull gave commands with an air of confidence.

"Glen, you stay and make sure the crowd doesn't interfere. Me and Manji will handle everything." He grinned proudly, as if the plan was a very intellectual one.

"What the heck, why do I have such a minor role!?" Glen made no effort to mask his discontent. "Let me fight too!"

"Fine, come with us. But don't get in my way." Manji had spoken for the first time; his voice was raspy and rough, sounding as if he had a sore throat.

Dances with Balrog and Glen stared at him, aghast. It was extremely rare to hear Manji engage in conversation.

The mass of bodyguards flexed their muscles and looked at him menancingly. They were more brawn than brains, and served as cannon fodder, looking more like overgrown pigs with their piercings and weird hairstyles rather than professionals. They must have been mercenaries, those who had thrown away their morality for cold hard cash.

Manji sauntered towards them, enjoying his leisurely stroll. Glen thought that he could see a tiny smirk hidden under the dark shadow of the bamboo hat.

Thoroughly concerned with the odds, Glen took a step forward, only to see Sitting Bull blocking his path.

"Don't interfere. Manji is the strongest lone wolf out there." Sitting Bull glanced at Manji, who was striding towards the enemies at a painfully slow pace. "Give him 10 seconds."

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His arms were aching faster than he had expected it to. Laran ignored the growing pain as he continued the barrage of lightning quick slashes against the persistent stirges, many of whom joined their fallen brethren in death in a matter of seconds. Wincing as the wounds from his previous battle threatened to reopen themselves, Laran continued his flurry of attacks.

"Sticking" to the wall, Laran managed to reduce the possibility of being flanked by the stirges. And now, he was engaged in a stamina war with the stirges, who stormed towards him, only to be brought down with Rejection. His Terran Eyes working at peak condition, Laran was rapidly releasing slashes to act as a barrier against the stirges, slicing them into pieces of flesh as they came into range.

Laran felt his control over his stamina pool start to slip from him. No wonder, as he had just recovered from a serious duel to the death with a Tauromacis. The fact that he was able to fight freely was already a huge surprise. As soon as that thought had popped up, he suddenly felt a jabbing pain in his right foot. He instinctively knelt down, to minimize the searing pain.

Yet, with every passing second of this new technique, Laran felt that he was getting mighty close to understanding, mastering something, a new technique, or a concept.

His Terran eyes alerted him that the stirges' were not letting up on their relentless offense.

Clenching his teeth tightly, Laran fluidly withdrew the arcane energy from his feet, instantly slipping as he lost his grip on the slippery cavern wall.

Somehow, through pure luck, he managed not to fall face down on his face. He squatted to reduce the impact, as he took a new stance, feet shoulder apart and his right leg pointing 45 degrees north-east. Channeling his lightning energy towards his arms, he felt a curious, tingling sensation.

Laran raised Rejection right as the stirges screeched wildly, their fangs barely half a metre from him.

"Tempest…Flurry!" He reinitiated the barrage of defensive slashes. This time, however, Rejection felt strangely lighter, allowing for better sword control. "It must've been the lightning arcane energy." Laran pondered.

His thoughts were interrupted as the stirges suddenly pulled back, arcing away from him…diving straight for the female assassin.

Laran exploded into a sprint towards her, as his instincts to protect emerged. His body groaned in protest, as exhaustion constantly weighed down on him, but he easily dismissed those thoughts.

"I'm going to directly attack the hive yeah yeah! The moment you see an opening, go in and unleash all you've got!" She yelled, while backflipping and spearing another dozen stirges headed for her.

She seemed to take a little longer re-equipping her kumbis, and when she flung them towards the hive, they arced out of the way of stirges, before embedding themselves firmly onto the base of the hive with a resounding "thud".

Laran almost stopped in his tracks, a few body lengths away from the hive. He frowned. How would such an attack give him an opening to destroy the hive? He was pondering the idea of rushing over and helping her rather than attacking the hive, when his eyes were suddenly assaulted by a "BOOM", as the base of the hive disintegrated in a flash of jarring heat and blinding light.

Explosives on the shuriken! The girl had some wild ideas. Laran leapt up into the hive, and as he always did, constructed a brutal, reckless last minute plan. This plan was suicidal. Just what a strategist would condemn.

"Tempest…" Laran's momentum forced him into the hive. He saw the dozens and dozens of stirges all swarming inside. A pang of fear stroked his heart, but he shoved that fear away.

"Hurricane!" It was a no holds barred attack. His arcane energy whipped out from Rejection, slicing and decapitating stirges, as the entire hive was cut to shreds.

Laran landed gracefully onto his feet, amidst the corpses of stirges. "Boy," he thought. "That was bleeding awesome!"

Meanwhile, the female assassin was finishing up, lobbing off limbs left and right with her kumbis. With a final heave of stars, 5 more stirges dropped onto the ground, unmoving. She too landed elegantly, inspecting her stars and equipment.

"So, who the heck are you?" Laran went straight to the point. His first impression of a girl that randomly attacked a stirge's hive was either extremely rash or braindead. She could very well possess both traits.

"JM's cousin. Call me." She giggled as she cast Dark Sight, evoking a smokescreen and disappearing from sight, leaving a piece of paper fluttering to the ground.

Picking up the paper, Laran sighed. He didn't want to waste any more time trying to probe into her background. A childish grin formed as he keyed in her name as "Brat" in his cellphone. "Ahh, the wonders of immaturity." He thought.

"Oh!" he couldn't help yelping out. He still had to find Clora! Feeling the energy of his fallen foes surge into him as experience points, he hurriedly made his way into the next tunnel.

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"It's hideous!" Clora thought, hastily leaping out of the way of the gigantic, mutated Wolf Spider.

It didn't even look like a Wolf Spider. Half cybernetic, half organic, it was a cyborg. The bastard had ambushed her, and it was only thanks to her high dexterity that she was able to pick out its presence. It must've been THEM who experimented on the poor creature.

Breaking into a forward roll that carried her momentum, she knelt down on one leg. She whipped out her red viper, and with a resounding cry; "Double Shot!"

A pair of arrows sped towards their target, only to be swiped into pieces by the Wolf Spider's razor sharp legs. She scowled. She wasn't expecting an easy fight, but this would be a troublesome.

She drew another arrow, and speedily nocked it into the bow.

"Let's see how you defend against this…" she mumbled, lost in her own thoughts. Arcane energy surged into the arrow, giving it a glowing red appearance that just screamed of danger.

"Arrow…Bomb!" Clora released the tension of the bowstring, adding a slight spin to the arrow to increase overall velocity.

The Wolf Spider lazily held up a leg, just as an almost invisible barrier appeared in front of it.

When Clora saw the Power Guard, it was already too late.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Damn!" Laran's left arm jerked involuntarily as his body suddenly suffered a static shock. He was trying to re-summon the electrical ball to aid his vision. It seemed that there was a cooldown period to materializing his arcane energy. In fact, he thought that he had already broken the physical limiters placed on his body from the previous fight.

He squinted at his surroundings. The tunnel seemed to lead to yet another dome. He heard a battle cry; a faint "Arrow Bomb!" Rushing forward, he was fairly sure Clora was locked in battle. Filled with excitement, he entered the dome, only to be chilled to the bone.

She lay crumpled in a heap. There was an enormous creature sauntering over to it in whatever way a spider could saunter. She seemed to have been knocked unconscious, a trickle of blood ran down the edge of her mouth. The stench of smoke from an arrow bomb permeated the air, prompting Laran to wrinkle his nose slighty.

"Shit!" Laran broke into a run. He shouted at the spider, trying to attract its attention, but it was to no avail, as it started wrapping up Clora in its web. It juggled her with the skill of a master entertainer, speedily compressing and squeezing her with its webs.

He had no choice. If the web was too tightly wound, Clora would die from the deprivation of oxygen. The spider was already half completed with its gruesome work of art, spinning her from one leg to another.

"Tempest Slash!" an electric blue current of arcane energy lashed out towards the Wolf Spider. Almost simultaneously, Laran heard a familiar "Lucky Seven!" chirping enthusiastically behind him, as eight throwing stars flew with amazing accuracy, locking onto the Wolf Spider. The same girl from earlier on was back!

"Brat!" Laran spun around, genuinely glad to see her. Taking on the Wolf Spider wouldn't be an easy task, and he could use all the backup he could get.

"Who're you calling brat! My name is…" She kicked Laran in the face as she landed.

"Allegra!" she flashed her innocent smile at Laran, as he rubbed his sore nose.

"Boy, she sure has a showy way of introducing herself…" he grumbled. Her cheerfulness in such a situation was painfully inappropriate.

The Wolf Spider cried out, as the blunt force of the two attacks slammed into it. Two stars pierced a couple of its eyes, while the Tempest Slash cleanly sliced off a limb that was getting too friendly with Clora, promptly sending a fountain of blood spurting out. It screamed in pain, the high frequency cry cutting through air like a knife through butter. Filled with rage, it dropped the unconscious Clora and twisted to face its aggressors, its other eyes actually glowing.

"Tag team?" Laran glanced at Allegra.

"You've got it yeah yeah!" She serenaded slightly in a sing-songish voice.

Laran sighed. Working with her would be a whole new experience. For the better or worse, he had no idea.

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"Limit Break." Manji whispered solemnly, lowering his blood stained sword.

The smoke cleared, leaving a pile of fresh corpses scattered all over the dusty red plateau of Panon.

"What the…How the heck did he…" Glen was completely aghast. His hand trembled uncontrollably, unable to contain his shock and awe. If Manji turned against them…he could very possibly single-handedly slaughter the whole of Panon, with the exception of Sitting Bull.

"That's why…they call him Demon Blade Manji." Sitting Bull grimaced ruefully, as he viewed the horrific sight.

"A warrior with such bloodlust and battle fervor that even his own allies feared him. Such is the tale of Demon Blade Manji."

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"Fire arrow." He released the pulsing hot arrow, as it impaled a charging Taurospear right in its heart, searing a deep hole through its chest. It grasped at the hole desperately, before crashing onto the floor next to its dead brethren.

"Coma." He spoke with authority, as Acquiescence split the Tauromacis' head into two, rendering it a gory corpse almost immediately.

"And you are the unluckiest." A sadistic grin formed over his lips.

"Combo attack. Release!" He pointed Acquiescence at a group of Tauros, who were backed up against the wall, frozen in fear, as the blinding white light exploded into an attack that engulfed them.

He strolled out of the Sanctuary. It was a good workout.

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Thats all folks. Thanks for reading, please review so I can improve, and i'll see you guys soon.

Cya.

Ccw.


	10. Chapter 10

I'm in the midst of the exams right now, so I have absolutely no idea why I am posting this. Thanks for all the constructive criticism and reviews guys. As promised, this is in 1st Person POV, so please give me your comments on a rather different writing style. I have definitely taken what you guys said into consideration.

DoT is 80 maple and 20 other stuff, but the whole idea is rooted in maplestory, so I'm not going to transfer it to the crossover section. Really, the plot line has certain elements of maple that just can't be removed. Oh, and Terran Eyes and any other stuff mentioned are just borrowed ideas that I twisted such that the plotline and story would make sense. Just wanted to clarify that it's not completely 100 ripped off.

As you all probably know, my writing style is still very undetermined, so I hope I can receive help from all of you along the way! Thanks, and without further ado...Chapter 10.

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Disclaimer: I don't own any Wizet related property. Or anything worth anything, actually. Whee.

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Chapter 10

Hermes Jr. 1 shuffled about uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like a junior executive in a board meeting with the chairmen of various corporations. Gingerly, he reached for a glass of water which was sitting mere inches away from his tightly clenched fists. He enjoyed the ice-cold liquid trickling down his dry throat, granting it respite. Thank goodness the meeting would be ending soon.

They were at a meeting of the gods, back in the Kingdom. After prolonged periods of tense, gripping discussions regarding the best candidate to guard Pandora's Gate, they finally reached a consensus. Hermes Jr. wiped yet another clump of sweat on his forehead that threatened to snowball into rapid sweating.

He was just one of the many sons of Hermes, chosen to represent him at the meeting because the old man was too damned lazy to come. He wasn't even sure he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps in the industry of communications and delivery. He frowned. Being a paperboy or even being in charge of paperboys wasn't his ideal career.

He scanned the table. Dura was still missing.

She'd been missing ever since that Chosen that they were monitoring had been transported to the future. Some suspected that she, being the Goddess of Darkness, was harboring dark intentions to manipulate, or even kill the Chosen.

But she certainly did not fit the throne of darkness well. Her father, The Titan of Sin, had previously occupied that seat before he was overthrown and banished. Where to, no one was allowed to speak of it- Kingsley had declared the matter closed.

What he did know, was that the Titan of Sin and Terran; the god of time, were supposed to rule over Earth. They took their orders directly from the Old Ones. Mysteries surrounded the Old Ones, much like fog hanging in a graveyard, obstructing the truth from being seen. No one knew who, or what the Old Ones were.

They played a pivotal role in the circle of life- they were in charge of disseminating prophecies to Terran and The Titan of Sin. They would then pass on the information to Kingsley, and then the information would be passed onto the gods, who told the commoners of the prophecies through divine intervention; through dreams, visions and much more.

Many tried to go against prophecies. At times, Gods, just like humans felt indignant at the prophecies, outraged that they were being governed by fate. And so, they went against the prophecies. The prophecies had often talked about balance. Going against the prophecies certainly did not ensure balance.

One day, Terran disappeared. For some incomprehensible reason, time was not thrown into complete chaos. Everyone was confused, was it a miracle? The truth was revealed soon after, a terrible, dark explanation to the phenomenal events…

Hermes Jr. 1's thoughts were interrupted just as Kingsley cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the gods who were chatting amongst themselves.

"And so, the Gatekeeper has been chosen. It may not be the best candidate, but it is the best we can provide for now. May the darkness never see the light of day."

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The harsh daylight shone down on the brownish-red plateau that was Panon. Glen gritted his teeth, taking in the gruesome sight that lay before him. Although those mercenaries were lackeys of Soitoru, killing them was still taking lives. However, he had slowly become desensitized to the killing. In wars, battles, uprisings, death was forever present. He had learnt to deal with it. And he fought for what he believed in.

Manji faced the gigantic mahogany doors that stood between him and his target. He ran his scarred fingers on the brown wood, and gently applied some force. It neither creaked nor budged a single inch.

His keen ears, however, picked up the slight ringing of metal chains behind the door. It must have been reinforced with various metal chains behind the door to ensure that it would be near unbreachable.

Manji smiled from ear to ear, unsheathing his sword from the elegant sword sheath nestling comfortably on his belt. He would have to use brute force. Somewhere far away, someone else was thinking the exact same thing.

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"Damn it!" I picked myself up, hearing my knee joints creak a little in protest. My chest felt like it was on fire from the blow I just received from a particularly jagged metallic arm. That damned Wolf Spider was, put simply, _one hell of a beast_. Flanking it was near impossible, with its abundance of seven legs. Seven, because I had previously scored a lucky hit with Tempest Slash that managed to sever one of its excessively large legs. I glared angrily at the beast, half cybernetic, half bionic, much like a cyborg spider. Add that to the fact that it dwarfed both me, Clora and Allegra. We had one difficult fight on our hands.

Ah, I forgot to properly introduce myself. I'm Laran. "Laran what?" you may ask; well, here's my problem- amnesia. I really hate the guy who planned out my life story; amnesia sounds like a pretty darned cool thing to implement until you realize that it's been way overused in sloppy drama serials.

So, all I know, is that I'm 18 years of age, with a butt-ugly scar running down my left cheek- the shape of a capital T. Oh, and I obviously never really cared about looks even before I lost my memory; judging by my extremely disheveled hair and deeply etched eyebags- as permanent as a carved up sculpture.

Apparently I was brought to the future because I was a Chosen- one whose destiny is to fulfill the prophecy.

"_When light and darkness combine,_

_The world will be at stake._

_The Chosens will gather._

_Therein lies the greatest battle in history._

_A leader must emerge,_

_In order to defeat the scourge._

_He must first defeat himself._

_In order to defeat his enemies._

_The one he calls a friend_

_Will become his foe."_

These phrases were uttered by my ex-mentor- a seasoned warrior by the name Glen. He seemed to be pretty forgetful concerning prophecies though, so there might still be more to what meets the eye.

"You have to use brute force to wrench the fight in your favour." Rejection muttered to me. Rejection was my sword, and we had synchronized our spiritual and physical bodies together, thanks to my blood as a medium. The runic inscriptions that ran across Rejection were the proof of that. Rejection usually took the shape of a large plain-looking two-handed Broadsword when not synchronized, but when synchronized it transformed itself into a sleek cobalt-coloured one-handed sword. The synchronization meter which manifested itself in a corner of my vision gave me an indication of the degree that we had synchronized- very much like a Heads Up Display (HUD). The bar read 20, a commendable increase from my pathetic 5 when I had first synchronized.

"Naggy old man." I muttered as I gripped Rejection tightly, breaking into an explosive sprint towards the Wolf Spider.

"Need a boost?" Allegra was a few body lengths ahead of me. The cousin of JM, who was notoriously known in Kerning, she was an accomplished rogue. She was level 44, but possessed a personality of a level 10 awaiting the first job advancement- bubbly, innocent and cheerful.

I nodded my head, prompting her to kneel down on her right knee with her two palms outstretched. With a few more strides, my right foot landed on her outstretched palms. I had barely steadied myself, when she yelled out with authority; "Flash Jump!" as she directed all the energy generated by the skill onto my feet.

My heart pounded rapidly, as I flew through the air, temporarily out of control. That sudden outburst of energy flung me towards the Wolf Spider, which was salivating disgustingly. The world spun out of control as I was thrown into a confused frenzy.

I closed my eyes to calm myself down. "Terran!" I snapped them open as time slowed around me. The swiveling environments slowed down as I regained my composure.

Not much was known about my Terran eyes. All I knew was that it was a gift from the God of Time- Terran, and he was the one who brought me to this future. It supposedly had the power of slowing down time for the user, no doubt imbued by Terran himself. Terran Eyes took on the form of rather demonic looking eyes. In its current state, after "evolving" once in my earlier encounter with a rather nasty EX Tauromacis; the eyes were a massive swirl of bloody crimson and black.

"Exert maximum force to the minimally protected area." I found myself muttering that phrase in tandem with Rejection. Whenever we were synchronized, we were one.

At last having some degree of control over my "flight", I managed to steer my body towards the Wolf Spider's back. That was its most vulnerable area, not to mention that none of its nasty limbs could reach there. That made it an ideal target.

"Allegra! Keep it occupied!" I frantically yelled. I was in an extremely delicate situation. The plan could go to hell if the Wolf Spider cut me into itty-bitty pieces while I was still in the air.

"No problem yeah yeah!" She danced about in front of the Wolf Spider while singing nursery rhymes with a huge smile plastered over her chubby face.

I felt the urge to reprimand her for her recklessness, but promptly stopped myself when I realized that I would be a hypocrite if I did. Jumping into a hive of stirges wasn't exactly a plan that "played it safe".

Instead, I focused my energies on the plan. The next phase would require extreme concentration and lightning quick reflexes.

"Tempest Slash!" I drew my arcane energy to Rejection. Holding it there for a split-second to let the power build up, I swung Rejection with an air of confidence; I had performed the technique until it became second nature. The lightning blue blade of energy cut through the air, well on the way to its target- the large cluster of stalactites which hung precariously over the Wolf Spider.

The keen blade of electric blue energy was overwhelmingly razor sharp, as it sliced through the stalactites easily; sending an avalanche of stalactites raining down. Now was the difficult part.

If I fell too quickly, I would get impaled by one…no, several stalactites. On the flipside, if I missed that narrow window of opportunity, my attack would lose much of its effectiveness.

I glanced at the Wolf Spider's Achilles Heel- the tender mush of fur and muscle; its neck. I had been targeting that area since I had formulated the plan to land on its unprotected back. If all went well, I would manage to decapitate the creature in one swift strike. I could also end up as a bloody mess if I ended up smashing into the floor and being trampled on violently.

I shoved away the pessimistic image of me having broken every bone in my body as soon as it surfaced. Fear was a factor I could do without in a fight- the adrenaline rush it provided was desirable, but the trade-off in terms of emotional security was ridiculously large.

Grabbing onto a nearby stalactite, I used it for makeshift footing as I leapt from a stalactite to another. I had to strike just as the last stalactite dealt its blow to the Wolf Spider, in order to secure my ideal position and not get crushed by the impending doom in the form of nasty, clammy stalactites.

"Mounting" my chosen stalactite, I held onto it for dear life as it plummeted towards the Wolf Spider. My vision blurred for a second as it was assaulted by the devastating G-forces, but I aggressively fought to remain conscious. I focused my Terran eyes on the immediate threat below- a severely pissed off Wolf Spider that was trying its best to, put simply, kill us all.

Allegra was doing one hell of a good job, darting in between its legs with unparalleled dexterity and courage. She was dodging, rolling and leaping out of the way of every blow sent her way, somehow still finding an opening to release a couple of explosive kumbis every now and then to great effect- the damage done to it was slowly piling up; it was reflecting in the Wolf Spider's etched features. Occasionally, its ugly mug would grimace when a kumbi hit a sensitive spot; next to its eye for example.

But even a person as dense as me could see that her stamina was draining at an alarming rate. Her movements were starting to turn sluggish, her kumbis no longer cut through the air with the authority that she previously commanded on them and her sweat encrusted face no longer bore that expression of cheerfulness; replaced with pure concentration.

The first wave of stalactites pounded violently against the Wolf Spider. Most stalactites missed the beast completely; however, a modest amount made impact. Several managed to pierce the more sensitive spots of its unprotected back; top halves of the stalactites breaking off at the moment of impact.

The Wolf Spider groaned in pain; the avalanche seemed more like a tender slap across the back than a flurry of attacks. And then, the second and third wave struck.

The two waves combined to form a relentless offensive as the gigantic Wolf Spider was pelted relentlessly. Its size worked against it, making it more vulnerable to area of effect attacks.

Barely three metres before contact, I leapt off my mounted stalactite and dived towards the neck area of the Wolf Spider- sword-first.

Rejection plunged into its neck with relative ease, the thin blade finding itself buried deep in the unprotected flesh, prompting the creature to unleash an outraged howl. I had no idea whether it was truly in pain, or whether it was firmly against the idea of a human possessing enough audacity to attempt to ride it, but I wasn't going to stick around and find out.

"Fantastic! Now use Final Attack, yeah yeah!" Allegra shouted at me from below.

"Final Attack would indeed be a good choice in this situation." Rejection's voice sounded in my mind, as clear as crystal.

I paused for a moment, caught in both hesitation and cluelessness. Final Attack? That phrase seemed agonizingly familiar; yet I was not able to recall what it stood for.

"Screw this shit." I reversed my grip on Rejection, and slammed the sword against the neck until only the sword hilt was visible.

Taking a deep breath, I forcefully channeled all the arcane energy I could muster and shoved it into Rejection. Holding it there for a moment, I unleashed the pent up energy with a resounding cry of "Tempest Hurricane!"

Razor sharp blades of arcane energy sliced out from Rejection- the attack actually comprised of extremely fast wind which burst out in all directions.

The wind blades ravaged the body from within- some bursting out from its stomach, some from its head, and the ever-comical ass.

The Wolf Spider jerked about momentarily, a natural reaction to the attack that was tearing it apart. Its knees buckled and no longer obeyed as it crashed onto the floor, sending a minor shockwave which threatened to release a rush of stalactites. Thankfully, the stalactites remained harmless.

The beast lay unmoving on the floor of the cavern, the ice-cold touch of death creeping over its massive corpse.

With a great heave, I managed to pull Rejection out of the corpse; resulting in a sickening "sliiiich" as the thin blade slid out of the grimy corpse. The entire blade was stained with blood, rendering it crimson. I inspected it for a second. It looked pretty darned cool.

"Do you mind? I feel so _bleeding _dirty." Rejection complained, with a hint of smugness at the pun he came up with.

"At least that was one of your better attempts at a joke." I muttered as I wiped Rejection against the unmoving corpse of the Wolf Spider.

"Hey Laran, over here!" Allegra's voice sounded out behind me.

Turning around, I saw her gingerly using a kumbi to cut the webs that were constricting Clora. Sheepishly, I admitted I was too caught up in that victorious moment and had completely forgotten about freeing Clora.

In a matter of seconds, Clora was free. Allegra whipped out a nasty-looking purple elixir, and fed it down Clora's throat before I could protest about the vile-looking liquid.

"What the heck are you feeding her!? It _bleeding_ looks like poiso…" I protested indignantly.

"Catch." Allegra flung a separate vial filled with the same purplish liquid to me. "Drink it." She nodded towards my chest.

I glanced down, only to see a bloody gash slightly below my left shoulder- stretching all the way across to my right waist.

"It's a power elixir which restores all of your HP and Mana."

"I'm sorry, _mana_?"

"Magical Arcane Natural Abilities."

"In other words, arcane energy?"

"Exactly." Clora had spoken, giving us all a big shock.

Her wounds had been healed completely thanks to the power elixir, and she seemed just as energized as before.

I looked at her disbelievingly, before gulping down the liquid in large mouthfuls.

It tasted slightly metal-ish. I couldn't quite put my tongue on the taste; nevertheless, my face distorted as I consumed the unappealing liquid, watching as my wounds healed themselves right in front of my eyes.

"Those things don't come cheap. Who are you?" She directed the question to Allegra.

"Allegra Andreadi. I'm the cousin of JM."

"What!? From the Andreadi family?"

Allegra gave a slight nod. I thought I could see a flash of reluctance on her features, but they disappeared almost instantly.

"No wonder you two were able to defeat the Wolf Spider…" Clora stood up and walked over to the slain Wolf Spider. She retrieved an upgrade core from its mouth, before kicking it apathetically in the face.

"Is that what we were looking for?" I inquired quizzically. "After all this effort, shouldn't we get more than just an upgrade core?"

"It is more than just an upgrade core." Clora protested indignantly. "I need to take this to Grendel. Next stop, Esuna."

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"Lock him up in the underground cells." Sitting Bull growled, as two well-built warriors hefted the tied up Soitoru away.

With the aid of Manji, they had stormed Soitoru's stronghold; dispatching all his personal bodyguards and easily capturing him. Soitoru's stronghold had been purposely destroyed by the repeated use of powerful techniques, meant to symbolize the fall of the seemingly immovable tyrant. A pity that Manji had disappeared into stealthy air the moment there had been no action left. He was always an aloof, unsociable person, but Sitting Bull was grateful for his help.

Now, standing at the top of the entire city that was Panon; with the entire population looking up at him, he felt a surge of pride through him. They had finally freed themselves from Soitoru. To his right, Glen nodded at him approvingly. It was time to address the populace.

"The reign of terror is over! No longer will citizens have to sacrifice themselves for the will of the tyrant Soitoru, we will no longer have to bear the chains of oppression!" Sitting Bull addressed the large crowd that had gathered at the foot of Panon's magnificent plateau.

"No longer will lives be forfeited for foolish causes! No longer will we have to surrender our assets for his self benefit. No longer will we continue living in dark times where there isn't enough to feed our young and elderly! No longer will he be our _so called_ leader!" Sitting Bull announced; his face beaming with happiness.

"Who will be our leader then?" A voice shouted out from below.

Sitting Bull hesitated. The people needed a hero- someone they could trust and look up to. This was especially crucial to the rebuilding of the populace's spirits after being oppressed and ill-treated for so long.

"Who do you think deserves the title of leader- the chieftain of our proud village?" Sitting Bull asked cautiously.

There was an instantaneous outburst of "You!" which arose from the very hearts of the people he had struggled to free. Sitting Bull felt a rush of emotions; pride, joy and rampant excitement coursed through him.

"Then I gratefully accept! As a leader, I have will open up my hearts to all of you! I shall eat what you eat, live how you live. I am one of you!" A thunderous cheer started to rise from the centre of the crowd.

"And as my first act as leader, Panon shall be no more! From today onwards, we shall be known as…Perion!"

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"Perion eh?" Grendel the Really Old muttered, curiously inspecting the scroll that a messenger from Panon…no, Perion had delivered mere minutes ago. Such a large scale rebellion was rare. He studied the profile of the new leader, Sitting Bull. Time sure flew by. He leaned back in his comfortable leather armchair, admiring the new _decor_ of his office. He had just completed it a few days ago, and he was certain that it looked magnificent.

The theme of the room was _relaxation_. Apart from the sheet white alder wood floor, the walls were painted with a nice saturation of sky blue and light blue. The wall opposite to the door had been completely demolished to make way for a majestic glass window that gave the onlooker a fantastic scenery view of the lush greenery that covered Esuna. An impressive Mansonia wooden table- one of the last of its kind- stood proudly by itself in the room. Unfortunately, it was also stacked with piles of paperwork scattered across the table.

"Paperwork defeats the purpose of relaxation…" Grendel kicked back, trying to properly nestle his neck on the padding.

He remembered meeting the young boy at Perion's warrior academy seemingly light years ago. Back then, the youngster was full of promise- the top of his class in both theoretical and practical assessments. On that fateful day, he had found Sitting Bull training against stumps during an academy field trip. His age betrayed his level of experience. A level twenty at the age of 10, slicing through dark stumps and axe stumps with ease, he was a sight to behold- sharp focused eyes that told of ambition well beyond his years, with a strong dexterous body capable of dealing out and receiving much damage.

"I am going to become the strongest warrior in the world!" That phrase, uttered by a boy no older than 10 convinced Grendel that he was meant for great things. Grendel had confidence that Perion was in good hands. Word had often travelled to him of his battle prowess, leadership ability and extremely rare interpersonal relationship skills warriors usually lacked.

A city usually changed its name whenever they had managed to cleanse and purge a form of major corruption. Perion's name changed drastically compared to Henesys, Esuna and Kerning City. It often contained hot-blooded warriors who started rebellions for no reason, and claimed to have purged corruption, leading to the change in their name.

"Sir, a young woman is here to see you. She said that her name was Clora and that it was urgent." Upon hearing the news, Grendel immediately rose from his seat, energized with excitement. No doubt, she brought with her another piece of the puzzle. He glanced at the scenery outside. They would have to discuss the impending issue through the night.

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If Esuna could be described in a single word, it would be _breathtaking_. Vibrant and striking colours filled the eyes- energetic green with reliable brown; the colours of mother nature. The village was incredibly environmentally friendly, with almost no sign of civilization apart from a rather rural population living in enchanted huts. The entire village was supported by a gigantic, majestic tree with branches that could pass off as buildings, coupled with large, thick vines that intertwined with one another extremely closely. Patches of thick moss and grass adorned the makeshift paths along the branches seemed to amicably welcome visitors.

Looking up, one's view was immediately assaulted by that velvet black, constricting the star filled sky; warping the once familiar blue to the graceful darkness. Light was reduced to nothing but shudders of stars, reminiscent of the time when they had once monopolized the sky.

The vast night sky scenery was simply stunning. The moist lush greenery of Esuna padded my back, leaving me in utter comfort. I sighed deeply in pleasure as I enjoyed the solitude. I was lying on a rather tall grass plateau that was comprised on various vines and thick layers of grass, which granted me some peace and quiet.

Allegra had left to purchase potions and town returning scrolls, while Clora was supposedly on some top secret confidential session with Grendel. I had already swapped energy stones with them so that we could teleport to one another in an instant. This left me all alone; not that I minded though. I wasn't completely alone. Rejection lay right beside me.

"So, I just realised that I don't actually know anything about you. Excluding the fact that you like to drool a lot. Your memories are all a blur." Rejection seemed to be at ease with the peaceful, almost melancholic surroundings.

I ignored the snide remark. "Don't you have the ability to ransack my memories like you would a cupboard? Couldn't you look for the information you want?"

"Nah, it wouldn't exactly be very nice, we are after all partners. Even if i wanted to, amnesia hangs over them like a thick fog."

I was slightly taken aback by Rejection's sincerity. He hadn't seemed to be someone who cared about other's feelings.

"You do know that I can read your thoughts right?" Rejection voiced out.

"It's a compliment!" I insisted.

"Thanks." He answered gruffly, but I thought I could sense a hint of elation.

There was an awkward silence between us, as we stopped for a moment to marvel yet again at the beauty of the scenery that lay before us.

"Thanks for being here. I…never knew what it's like to have a family. I blame it all on the amnesia." I spoke suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Well, it's not like you gave me much choice…" Rejection joked. "I mean, you fused me to your sword. Spirits don't have any say in who their master would be."

"None at all?"

"Well, technically we don't, but we could always refuse to synchronize."

"And you synchronized with me…because?"

"Well, I always wanted to help a Chosen. Although I hate to admit it, you are my master."

Hesitation pulled me back for a split-second. I didn't exactly enjoy bossing people around. Throwing my authority around was never one of my preferences.

"Well, instead of being your master…how about being good friends?" I treaded cautiously. I didn't want to seem like a weak-willed individual who feared power.

"Oh." Rejection didn't bother to hide the fact that he had obviously never considered an alternative. "Since it's such a unique situation, I see no harm. This reminds me…in my previous life…"

Rejection shut himself up abruptly. It was blindingly clear that he did not wish to discuss the topic any further.

My curiosity flared up in a second, but I swiftly kept it under wraps. The topic seemed to stir up some tension between us.

"So errm…mind explaining what Final Attack is? You mentioned it during the fight earlier, remember?" I hurriedly changed the topic.

"Ah, yes, Final Attack. One of the most difficult techniques to master, yet it yields an incredible power." Rejection spoke of it as if it were a sacred relic. "Many have also mastered the technique but…they were changed beyond recognition. Do you dare pay the price? Do you have the desire to achieve it…and to let the technique achieve you?"

I was surprised by his choice of words, but nevertheless; I stood my ground. The word "yes" started making its way up my throat, however it got stuck.

"Hell yeah." I declared with resolution.

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"He is getting stronger."

"Ah, I did tell him to seek power. So, Kingsley has already appointed the Gatekeeper?"

"As expected, he has."

"Excellent. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. Destiny is such an irony. His will be one of tears."

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Yeah, the chapters are getting longer. I think I definitely improved from the earlier chapters haha.

Read and review please! Thanks guys!

Signing Off,

Ccw.


	11. Chapter 11

Hoorah, Chapter 11 is up! Commendable. At least i think so. The chapter is mainly focused on Raccious, whom I have been neglecting rather badly. It gives a sorta insight into the necromancer workings.

Thanks for all the reviews people! Yes, I know I've been woefully undereviewing you guys argh. Is there even such a word?

Enjoy chapter 11!

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything. In fact, if you get into a lawsuit with me over who owns Laran and Raccious, i'd probably lose. Yes, i'm a sad, sad human being.

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Raccious trekked through the knee-length snow, his boots crunching noisily as they stomped down onto the dense field of snow. The mesmerizing white of El Nath surrounded him; a sight to behold. Looking around, there was nothing to be seen but sky blue skies, and the afromentioned snow.

El Nath seemed like the perfect place to hold one's family vacation, with its abundance of beautiful scenery and various slopes to facilitate skiing. Almost the entire maple population; however, knew better.

The thick snow hid the rough jagged surfaces of cliffs and mountains. Avalanches were simply waiting to happen, with such large amounts of snow. In addition, bloodthirsty high-levelled monsters prowled the area, constantly preying on any unwary travellers. Of course, by now, almost everyone knew of the dangers that lurked in El Nath. No one dared to venture out of the city of El Nath anymore. In fact, the city of El Nath would occasionally come under attack by disgruntled Yetis or Pepes, making El Nath a place only for the strong.

To become strong, that was the reason why Raccious had left Victoria for El Nath. He had arrived to seek membership to the guild of The Forsaken- the one and only supreme guild for the dark arts.

Dark arts, including necromancery, were unanimously banned by every leader who had ever came into power. It was an understood rule that no one was to practice the dark arts, as they would corrupt one's mind. Personally, Raccious didn't give a shit about those who got corrupted. If they went insane with power, they would just get hunted down by fellow necromancers to preserve the fine reputation of necromancery. Only those who mastered the dark arts instead of letting the dark arts master them, bore the right to live.

Raccious had been under observation ever since he was young. It was said that the offspring of formidable parents would too be bestowed with great power. On the day of his parent's funeral, he had met _them-_ the guild scouts for The Forsaken.

"When you reach level 50…look for us." The voice was comforting yet condescending- a superior being of power speaking to him. He slipped Raccious a tiny sheet of paper, detailing the information needed to contact them.

Raccious had clutched that piece of paper tightly in his tiny fists, swearing that someday he would get strong. His parents had been hunted down mercilessly by Kingsley's _avengers_. They were agents sent by Kingsley when the gods; being the control-freaks that they were, decided to take direct action to influence the world.

He seeked strength at any cost. His humanity was no exception.

Raccious knew that the guild headquarters was nearby. All he had to do was find it.

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"I sense him. He has finally arrived."A hooded figure sat in the middle of a pitch black room.

"Then invite him in…but only if he is able to pass the test." A reply sounded out from one of the edges of the room.

"Of course. Only the strongest are fit to survive." The same hooded figure opened the door, allowing dim light to filter through the door crack momentarily. The light illuminated part of the room, showing off dozens other hooded figures, all sitting in the formation of a large circle. A thin patch of light fell on one of the faces. It was saturated a sickly white, even slightly purplish- as if the face had never been in contact with sunlight.

"If all goes well, another joins our ranks."

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"That's all for today." Rejection muttered, clearly unhappy with my unsatisfactory performance.

Completely exhausted, I staggered towards a nearby wooden bench. My legs gave way; however, and I was sent collapsing onto the ground. It was strange though, I didn't feel any pain, only the dull impact of the ground.

The moment I had tried to summon arcane energy, my legs had instantly turned to Jell-O. I had gotten back up again, only to the embarrassingly same result.

"I guess I can't blame you. You haven't had a break since…well, never." Rejection sighed in a matter-of-factly way.

"In fact, you should rest for tomorrow too. Training will only resume two days later."

Right as I opened my mouth to protest indignantly, I was cut off with a "No arguments." by Rejection.

Somehow, I was now his pupil. So much for being equals.

"Trust me, your body needs it. According to the theory of accelerated muscle recovery-"

"Hey man, you're nagging. Not cool."

"Define cool."

I ignored his feeble counter and tried to fall asleep under the bright blanket of stars that winked at me conspiratorially. Despite the fatigue that possessed my body like a hungry ghost, I hadn't been this happy in a long time. I finally made a friend that I could identify with.

Like Rejection said, I needed the rest. Final Attack, as Rejection insisted, would require me at my peak condition.

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Raccious crouched behind a mound of snow, surveying his environment. That Yeti was directly blocking the entrance to the tunnel- the most probable place he would find The Forsaken headquarters.

This was bad. He hadn't considered the possibility of having to face off against such a powerful monster toe to toe. He was just here to join the guild, yet it was foolish to think that they would cordially accept him without a demonstration of his powers.

Raccious peered curiously at the Yeti. It seemed to be unmoving, with tiny pig-like eyes glazed over. Powerful muscles were hidden under the thick coat of white fur, ensuring that it would be more than just a formidable foe. It stood at its position- right in front of the cave- with absolutely no indication that it was even alive. However, being a necromancer, Raccious could sense the life-energy radiating from it.

He needed a plan. Raccious was willing to bet that it acted like a gatekeeper to the tunnel. Mentally, he quickly ran through the necromancer arts he had previously mastered, trying to find a skill to use for reconnaissance.

"Torolt." He whispered, summoning a couple of skeletons a couple of metres from him. Raccious swore, frustrated with his bad luck. There were little survivors who had dared to venture so deep into the Icy fields of El Nath.

The two skeletons looked fragile. Bits and pieces were missing from their bones, chipped away by the harsh environment. They must've been dead for a long time.

Raccious sent both of them towards the Yeti. He meant to test its response, giving the skeletons orders to sneak past the Yeti and into the cave.

As soon as the skeletons were in sight, the Yeti broke into action. In one swift movement, it bounded to the first skeleton, and with a single swipe of its bulging arms, backhanded it away.

The undead was sent scattered through the air, bones smashing themselves into itty-bitty pieces.

The second skeleton had seized the opportunity to pass by the Yeti. It was almost at the mouth of the tunnel when the Yeti slammed its fists against the snow, resulting in a shockwave that shattered the poor undead.

"Brute force then." Raccious admitted to himself that it was the only solution past the Yeti.

"Synchronization." Raccious held out both hands, gripping the onyx wand tightly. "Consume the living. Venom!"

In a dark flash of arcane energy, the wand morphed itself into an elongated onyx staff, except that there was a small diamond orb sitting snugly at the top.

Raccious cast a Magic Guard around him, preparing to engage in combat with the Yeti. Instantly, a semi-permeable, almost transparent bubble shield formed in a short radius around him. Although the aqueous barrier looked thin and fragile, it could take a hard beating, having saved Raccious' ass many times. His left hand scooped a pile of snow, and flung it at the Yeti.

"_Kotyaer_ _neuma_." The snow transformed itself into glowing black icicles, all of whom soared towards the Yeti with deadly accuracy. It was a rather basic technique, imbuing makeshift projectiles with darkness energy to pelt enemies.

A handful buried themselves in the Yeti's chest, while the others scattered themselves onto the Yeti's arms and legs. The pain inflicted caused the Yeti to bellow a resounding battle cry- which shook the very mountain they were on. It started its charge at Raccious, determined to crush this intruder.

"Ksh-fea." Raccious calmly gestured with his staff, to have a beam of dark energy materialize. It cut through the air speedily, snuggling in the chest of the Yeti, who paid no heed to it. Almost instantly, dark spots started appearing on its body. They oozed and started to cover the Yeti's body; the pools of malevolence coated the Yeti's snow-white fur with murky black.

Raccious allowed himself a tiny satisfactory smile. Ksh-fea, also known as the Corruption Spell, was the necromancer's sinister retort to Bless. Instead of granting the user the power to buff allies, it gave the user the ability to nerf enemies. Necromancery was never based on defense, defence never won any battles. Offence certainly did. The Yeti now had lowered defense, attack and avoidability. It cued the main offensive dish.

"_Halda tari pilin'_." Raccious held his staff in front of him, dark arcane energy splashing itself over the staff. The energy shaped itself to the shape of a bow, and nocked to the staff was an arrow of pure corruption. Raccious took aim at the chest of the Yeti- its heart.

_Halda tari pilin', _or _Shadow Queen's Arrow_, a technique that Raccious had coined himself, required Raccious to materialize his arcane energy. It was only after painstaking efforts that Raccious had even managed to finally carry out the technique without the bow crumbling to pieces in front of him. He had been practicing the technique ever since his parents' deaths. It had been their wish to experience a day when necromancers had their own elemental version of arcane arrows.

Raccious held his breath for a split second, making sure that his aim was true. With steady hands, he unleashed the pent-up power of the arrow, sending it straight at the Yeti. The arrow itself seemed to possess a will of its own; the killing intent that radiated from it was immense.

Even the intellectually challenged Yeti could sense that the attack spelt danger. With not enough time to dodge the attack completely, it swiftly swayed its body to the side.

The arrow pierced through the Yeti's shoulder, tearing the tendon there to shreds of flesh. Even its thick hide couldn't prevent it from getting damaged. Bits of pinkish flesh littered the ground around the Yeti.

Raccious smirked. His newly acquired technique had been well worth the effort invested to master it. Dedicating every waking moment of his life ever since he "lost" to Laran in order to master the technique had paid off. He now wielded an incredible power. The remnants of the dark energy swirled around his arm like a mist clinging tightly to the grave.

Without warning, he felt something creep insidiously into his mind. Raccious recognized it for the threat it posed almost immediately, and tried to block his mind out, but it was too late…

A vision suddenly splashed across Raccious' mind. "Nggh!!" Raccious bit his lip, furiously trying to suppress the sudden outburst of seizing pains. This was no headache- it was pure crippling pain.

The arcane bow collapsed into dust, as Raccious pressed his hand against his left eye. Wincing, he uncontrollably shut his left eye. And as expected, he saw the image in his mind's eye yet again. The image of an indistinct figure sitting on a throne was incredibly glaring.

This was not the first time it had occurred. Over the last few weeks, visions of the being that was shrouded in shadow had, for the lack of a better term, _haunted_ him. It seemed to spring out more frequently whenever he performed techniques that directly drew on the element of darkness; something that Raccious had been quick to notice.

Raccious shook his head wildly, trying to banish the rapidly escalating pains, when the Yeti started storming towards him again. The ground shook, as the Yeti's heavy feet clashed against the snow.

"Bastard!" Raccious struggled to his feet, shakily raising his staff towards the Yeti.

"Shadolt!" He felt the surge of energy gather at the tip of the staff's orb; the familiar darkness energy was shaping into a ball. Time was a luxury that he could not afford in this situation. The moment he felt it take shape, he hurriedly flung it at the Yeti.

Somehow, he managed to direct the shadow bolt towards the Yeti. The slow-moving bolt of energy was easily evaded by the Yeti who _leapt_ over it. The furry beast was heading straight for Raccious; its fists were curled together, positioned as an overhead smash.

"Come on!" His arcane energy was slipping from his grasp, like grains of sand through his hands. He needed time to recuperate, time to recover his energy, he felt his arcane pool start to dip lower.

Raccious slammed his staff with such strength that it protruded through the snow and sank a little into the hard ground. He took a deep breath, for he knew that the next technique he cast, if it failed, would cost him dearly.

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"So, you met another Chosen?" Grendel's face bore an expression that many had previously thought inconceivable- such was the extent of his interest in the prophecies concerning chosens. They served to be oddities that even the seemingly all-knowing Grendel could count on to be unpredictable.

_It must be nice to know everything that's happening in the world._ That phrase had been uttered multiple times by large masses of citizens. Grendel had simply snorted at their ignorance. They complained that having a consistent, mundane lifestyle would be the death of them, yet blindly proclaimed how having knowledge over everything was satisfying.

"Yeah, his name is Laran." Clora paused for a split-second. "I sensed another with great power, but pity he wasn't a Chosen. He was gone by the time I reached Laran though."

"I look forward to meeting him tomorrow."

"Yeah well, just don't set your expectations too high. The poor fool has amnesia, and can't remember half the things warriors are supposed to know."

"That _poor fool_ defeated that mutant Wolf Spider which had you dangling like a snail at the hands of a beginner."

"Ya know, snails can kill beginners."

Grendel shot Clora a quizzical look. She could be so stubborn sometimes. But then again, it ran in the family.

Clora's parents, both archers, had been close friends with Grendel. As such, he had watched Clora grow up ever since she was nothing more than a child the size of the Great Magic encyclopedia. All was well, until that fateful day.

"I will see you at exactly 8.00a.m." Grendel glanced at his pseudo wristwatch which was wrapped lazily around his left wrist. It had been made from a couple of useless twigs and leaves- the twigs twisted to form a ring of brown, and the leaves were stuffed into the small hole provided.

"Why the heck are you even using that…pseudo wristwatch thingum?" Clora dismissed the object as not being even vaguely important after a fleeting glance.

"It helps to confuse people. Apparently they think that I can tell time by looking at it."

"Ah. So, moving on," Clora made no effort to conceal her disinterest, "I'll bring Laran and the other girl from the Andreadi family. We can brief them about our discoveries concerning the Brotherhood."

"Indeed." Grendel's mind was elsewhere. Laran…he had heard that name before.

"Grendel?" Clora murmured softly.

"Yes?"

"A storm is coming. I can sense it in my _bones_."

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Raccious clapped his hands together with conviction, feeling the power of darkness surge through him. "Maeg!" Raccious authoritatively thrust his palms towards his staff.

Necromancer techniques were usually written in the ancient elven tongue, a reference to the roots of necromancery- the dark elves. "Maeg" meant sharp, and to make Venom "sharp" was exactly what Raccious intended to do.

A jet-black lance of dark energy leapt onto Venom, transforming itself into a deadly sharpened tip of corruption energy manifestation that sat on top of Venom. Venom now resembled a formidable lance with the darkness as the tip of the weapon. The darkness had transformed itself into a cobalt blue, razor sharp complement to the blunt staff which could be used as a grip.

Meanwhile, the Yeti was swiftly descending upon him- its gigantic fists balled up into a threatening makeshift hammer. It was trying to crush Raccious with an aerial assault.

Raccious tried to avoid close quarters combat the best he could; he was after all a mage. However, trying to avoid it certainly did not result in a complete evasion of having to fight toe to toe. Raccious had forced himself to become at least rather proficient with Venom at close range combat, awaiting unfavourable situations like this.

Soon however; the epiphany that he just was not able to wield a weapon effectively in close range came as a huge blow to him. He spent many sleepless nights pursuing the elusive answer to his dilemma- ransacking the contents of the ancient necromancery books depicting the way of the necromancer, flipping through pages with such fervor; such unrestrained passion for the power he so desperately seeked. And then, he had discovered it. A vicious blow that was worthy of its name. _Amin vasa lle sint_.

Raccious pivoted with the ball of his right foot; thrusting Venom directly at the centre of mass of the Yeti. With a dull "thud", the lance sank deep into the pudgy flesh of the Yeti, sticking comically out of its chest.

Raccious swiftly barrel-rolled to his left, avoiding the overhead smash that the Yeti was trying to smash him with. He barely cleared it.

The Yeti slammed into the snow covered ground, missing Raccious by mere centimetres. However, the shockwaves by the resulting impact shook the ground violently, making Raccious lose his balance.

"Quickly! When Venom is still in contact with him!" Raccious willed himself to focus.

Raccious slowly extended both his arms towards the Yeti. His fingers firmly stretched to their fullest, Raccious' stance was unorthodox- like a child trying to cast a non-existent spell-, amusing even.

Raccious started muttering under his breath, fragments of known words decorating his speech. And finally, he reached the spell itself; his trump card.

"_Amin vasa lle sint!__" _Raccious roared with conviction, summoning the limited pools of his arcane energy. He tried to remember how it had felt when he had first executed that remarkable technique- that crisp feeling of satisfaction and was, for a lack of a better phrase, _a good feel._

Sparks of dark lightning leapt out of Raccious' bare fingers, arcing towards Venom. Venom acted like a lightning rod- all the showers of corrupted lightning were attracted to the staff. Venom absorbed all of the sparks, pulsing and surging with the dark power. With a snap of Raccious' finger, Venom forcefully "injected" the sparks into the Yeti.

The moment the sparks made contact, they instantaneously impacted themselves into the small wound generated in the Yeti by Raccious' earlier strike. Raccious held his breath for a moment. It was the first time he had used the technique against such a fearsome adversary, and he had absolutely no idea whether it would be successful.

Raccious watching intently, his fingers crossed as the Yeti paused its movement for a split-second. His hopes were shattered when the Yeti shook off the blow and continued its lumbering towards Raccious.

"Damn!" Raccious had no choice but to acknowledge the failed attempt. Grudgingly, he recalled that he had in fact only properly performed the move twice before.

The Yeti took a step towards Raccious, before abruptly stopping. That was when all hell broke loose.

The Yeti suddenly let loose a bloodcurdling scream of anguish, slamming its fists against the deep layers of snow, causing the ground to tremble uncontrollably.

"It works!" A jolt of euphoria coursed through Raccious as the blinding realization of the success of the technique hit him. There was just a slightly delayed reaction, but it still took effect on the Yeti.

When translated, _Amin vasa lle sint _meant feeble mind. The spell was specially engineered by necromancers to short circuit the victim's mind, throwing the victim into a crazed stupor, giving the necromancer a good window of opportunity to aggressively stack damage.

Raccious whipped open his backpack, searching for a mana potion. Crap. He was all out. What now? Raccious gritted his teeth, his mind racing for how to effectively dispatch the Yeti. His current level of spell mastery was not sufficient to sustain the curse for long.

The Yeti shrieked- a wild feral cry that pierced the air. It slammed its fists repeatedly against the ground, its agony driving it insane. With its wild barrage of attacks, Raccious felt the ground shudder and shake violently. It was increasingly difficult to keep his balance.

It was a chance observation, something rare that only a few people would notice. Raccious was one of them, as he saw a rather insignificant crack rapidly spreading along the ground; it was headed towards a towering mountain that was elevated above them. The crack gained altitude- it travelled all the way up the plateau- massive cracks split off from it as it ascended. By the time it had reached the summit of the mountain, the entire structure was rife with cracks. With a simple "Psh" sound that was uttered softly by the mountain, a tiny piece fragment of the mountain chipped off, falling and humorously knocking into the Yeti's thick skull. The dull creature blinked twice, and looked up curiously. Raccious followed.

They both set their eyes on the huge chunks of mountain fragments- their impending doom- plunging towards them. The crack had resulted in the entire mountain crumbling to bits, and the remnants of it were accumulating in a sudden rush towards Raccious and the Yeti.

"Oh shit. Oh no. Uh oh. Oh shit." Raccious' mind had miraculously shut itself down in his time of need, stubbornly repeating its useless phrases.

His survival instincts kicked in, and before he knew it, Raccious had started sprinting towards the Yeti. He had to retrieve Venom, which was still sticking out of the Yeti's chest.

"Return!" Raccious muttered urgently, his right hand outstretched to summon Venom. The feat of being able to return one's synchronized weapon to the wielder demanded a high synchronization level and extreme concentration. Thankfully, Raccious and Venom had attained the synchronization level of 40% mere hours ago during training, and as such, were more than ready to attempt the technique.

Venom budged slightly; it was still however, stuck firmly in the flesh of the Yeti. Raccious frowned, and without breaking his stride, raised his other hand towards the Yeti. With a great heave, Venom barely slid out of the Yeti- sliding clumsily across the snow.

Somehow, Raccious thought the technique would be more…_elegant. _Nevertheless, survival was the priority. Scrambling hands clasped around Venom; Raccious narrowly avoided the first of the many incoming projectiles, a swift step back that allowed him to pivot his body out of danger. The piece of mountain debris collided harmlessly against the spot that Raccious had been on mere moments ago.

"Come on…" Raccious tried to pull arcane energy from his mana pool, but he was drained to the last drop- completely dry.

"Need help?" There was a mocking voice sounding out within his mind.

"Shut up!" Raccious yelled indignantly at the voice. He was sure it was simply a figment of his imagination; he was under too much stress.

"Relax. Let me show you what I have to offer." The voice dissipated to nothing more than a bare whisper, its words gently but stubbornly echoing in Raccious' mind.

Raccious suddenly felt a surge of power- a sudden torrent of arcane energy gushing along the veins of Raccious' body. With this unexpected savior of arcane energy, Raccious' options were now open. He had to promptly disable the Yeti's movement and escape into the tunnel before the avalanche turned him into mush.

"Halda tari pilin'!" Raccious gathered his new-found arcane energy and mustered it together to materialize the arcane bow.

With intense focus, the arcane energy converged itself to nock an arrow made of pure corruption to Venom. Raccious fired the Shadow Queen's Arrow, this time, not at the Yeti, but at its left foot, pinning it firmly to the ground.

The moment Raccious had made the shot, he immediately started his rush towards the tunnel. A couple more mountain fragments crashed near Raccious, cueing him to ride his adrenaline and dash even faster.

Meanwhile, the Yeti had just overcame the feeble mind curse that was casted by Raccious. It tried to rush after the necromancer, yet it was immobilized by the powerful arrow. It gripped the arrow tightly, trying to pull it out- it was a sad, futile attempt-, the corruption radiated by the arrow burned its arms that were so desperately clinging onto it. The Yeti gave a long cry of pain and sadness right as it accepted its fate, before the avalanche claimed it as its victim.

By then Raccious was already in the clear- he had entered the tunnel. Raccious showed no emotion as the experience points from killing the Yeti were absorbed into him. It was just business.

What had that voice been? Was it the figure that was encompassed in shadow? So many unanswered questions surrounded him.

Despite his mental exhaustion from repeatedly casting spells, Raccious' well-toned senses picked up a darting shadow in the darkness.

"Reveal yourself!" Raccious demanded, raising Venom towards the figure.

The cloaked figure threw his head back and chuckled languorously. There was something very wrong with the way he chuckled, something…hollow about it.

"You have passed the test. You are hereby officially invited to join The Forsaken."

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"This young one has potential." A shadowy figure clapped his hands enthusiastically. "I can't wait to start training him!"

"Slow down, Dyzern. The great Oracle will decide who will be his master. As always." Another figure scoffed at Dyzern. "We must prepare his initiation ceremony. Come."

"Pity Wyvern couldn't be here for this." A third speaker hoarsed. "I'm sure he would be more interested in the new recruit than staging yet another assault on Esuna."

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Wyvern sighed as he viewed the Lupins below that were running about aimlessly. He had chosen them to use as his tools to assault Esuna. He would kill all of them, before resurrecting them to use as his mindless slaves. Personally, he didn't understand why they had to conduct these attacks against various cities. These attacks were on such minor scales that they were repelled almost immediately by the defensive forces of the city.

He would much rather be honing his techniques in the headquarters of The Forsaken. However; it was his duty as a member of The Forsaken to carry out his responsibilities as a servant of the Titan of Sin. That duty was to keep the legacy of the necromancers alive.

"_Ascar alata_!" Shimmering black dust was transmitted through Wyvern's chosen weapon- a modified Angel Wings such that it gave bonuses to darkness based spells. The irony; Angel Wings were used to cast darkness based spells. As the black dust touched the Lupins, they lost their sanity, turning into fully-fledged primal beasts. They ripped each other apart using their deadly claws and sharp teeth; it was a gruesome sight. Before long, there were a fair number of fresh corpses, and Wyvern moved in to take the rest down.

On an unstoppable rampage, Wyvern casted spells with much ease- he was after all a level 70 necromancer. The Lupins who fled were effortlessly cut down, and those who stayed to fight were dispatched off just as easily.

A Lupin was sent crashing against a gigantic tree trunk, the bark splintering off to reveal an unnatural gaping hole. The tree was hollow. Wyvern looked up, finding that the tree was enormous even among the giant fauna in Esuna's rainforests. Its summit was well above the dense canopy layer.

Wyvern allowed himself a sly grin. The only explanation for it being hollow was that the Lupins used the tree as a home. The attack wouldn't be a small scale one after all.

He would have to spend a grand total of about 2-3 days raising his army. The destruction wrecked would be greatly satisfactory. He grinned to himself. He couldn't wait to see the look of helplessness on the villagers as they watched their town burn.

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And thats all folks! Stay tuned for chapter 12, which is coming err, when i feel like it! Thanks for reading, and review if you can!

Now a pseudo- dictionary!

_Kotyaer_ _neuma: Hostile trap._

_Maeg: Sharp_

_Amin vasa lle sint: Feeble mind._

_Ksh-fea: Evil spirit._

_Halda tari pilin': Shadow queen's arrow._

_Ascar alata: impetuous radiance _

_......................................................................................................................................................_


	12. Chapter 12

"I am sorry my lord. Belek does not wish to join us in our quest." A female voice solemnly concluded.

"No matter. Everything can still proceed smoothly without him."

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Balance exists in every aspect of life. I closed my eyes, trying to feel for the arcane energy emitted by nature, the equilibrium that counteracted the arcane energy emitted by creatures. Focusing my mind, I found it.

With a battlecry, I unleashed a Tempest Slash at a Cursed Eye nearby, the keen edge of Tempest Slash easily lobbing off its tail. The beast gave a foul cry that was in between a yelp of pain and a roar of anger, before charging at me.

I took a step back with my right foot, holding Rejection close to the ground. With conviction, I shut my eyes- trying to amass the arcane energy emitted by the nearby flora and fauna. It was a relatively easy task, considering that Esuna was overcrowded with gigantic trees and wild grass. Gathering it at the tip of Rejection, the tip glowed a light green. I threw out some of my arcane energy, causing the tip to alternate between flashing cobalt blue and emerald green.

"Final Attack!" I bellowed with gusto, releasing the charged-up arcane energy at the tip of Rejection straight at the Curse Eye. The energy took on the shape of a crescent moon, electricity crackling dangerously as it cleanly sliced the Curse Eye into two.

I grinned. Could I have already mastered it?

"No. That's not the proper Final Attack." Rejection squashed my spirits almost immediately. "You were just fooling around. Final Attack requires one to actually take the arcane energy of nature into one's body, before releasing it together with his own arcane energy in order to _multiply_ the power that can be wielded. You just gathered some of nature's arcane energy on my physical body before adding some of your own."

"Two choices." Rejection paused to prolong his intended effect of suspense. "You can either choose to listen to me and attempt to master Final Attack properly, or you can continue what you're doing- flopping on the ground like a fish trying to find water."

"I'm not sure I get you." I growled, trying to keep my temper under control. "I've been trying to follow your advice to the best of my abilities, but it seems like that's causing me to flop around. I could swear that you were the one that told me to gather nature's arcane energy on the sword."

"I said gather it into your body before channeling it into the sword. Learn how to listen." Rejection retorted.

I scowled. Ever since I had suggested an equal relationship, it had quickly lopsided into "master and apprentice" .

"And how in the world am I supposed to gather it into my body?"

Rejection coughed a single time. A frown firmly etched on my face, and my voice dripping with sarcasm, I rephrased the question.

"Oh great one, please humbly impart your ever important knowledge of the secrets of Final Attack to your ignorant apprentice?"

He seemed satisfied with my response, judging from his immediate reply. "Think of your arcane energy as a chocolate sponge cake. The plastic wrapping surrounding the cake is your physical body. And, the air is the arcane energy emitted by nature. In order to get the air into your cake, you have to open up your skin a little."

"What? Are you drunk or crazy?"

"I just happen to like cakes a lot."

"Jokes aside…are you implying that I have to open up… the pores on my skin?"

"Yes."

Our conversation was cut short with the untimely arrival of a Curse Eye lunging at me from an elevated mushroom.

"Power strike!" In one swift motion, I whipped Rejection in a circular motion; the technique propelled the unfortunate Curse Eye backwards, sending it crashing against the slimy walls of the cavern we were in.

I allowed myself a proud smile. Since I was not allowed the practice of Final Attack in the last few days, I spent them reading through the warrior manuals and practicing warrior techniques that I should have already rightfully mastered.

They came to me extremely easy. Apparently amnesia was inferior to my muscle memory.

In the process of learning, I found that my trump card, Tempest Slash, was actually a hybrid of Power Strike's concentrated power and Slash Blast's wide area of effect- effectively granting it power on a large scale.

"Good to see that you've regained the memory of utilizing a warrior's basic skills." Rejection remarked, to which I did not respond to.

Without hesitation, my left arm was outstretched- I was once again trying to feel for the arcane energy in the environment. I found it easier to gather the energy by amassing it in my left fist.

By the time I was satisfied with total amount of congregated energy I held in my palm, I firmly grasped my right forearm- desperately willing the pores of my skin to open by pumping them with my own mana.

I imagined my skin as a locked door between the opposite powers I was trying so hard to combine. My arcane energy swirled about chaotically, as I tried to find the perfect mould of a key to unlock the door.

My heart skipped a beat as I suddenly felt the sudden surge of alien energy power itself into my body. My eyes snapped open, only to see the enraged Curse Eye a metre away, its powerful hind legs thrusting itself towards me.

I gave a sudden yelp- not of fear but of surprise. At the current range the Curse Eye was at, there wouldn't be enough time to use Tempest Slash. Instincts kicked in.

"Final Attack!" I forcefully thrust Rejection outwards, channeling my arcane energy together with nature's. A solid blast of shimmering white erupted from the blade, engulfing the Curse Eye. I saw it struggle with death for supremacy, only to lose the fight, as the offensive prowess of my new technique ravaged its body into bits of gore. Its remains rained down in front of me.

I stood there, unmoving for a few moments. I..seemed to have remembered that sensation. It was as if it wasn't my first time actually unleashing a proper Final Attack. Silence sat itself between me and Rejection.

"I'd hate to admit this but you seem to be a natural at Final Attack. Had you been dedicating your time to it before?" Rejection piped up.

"I…don't know. I seem to remember it." I stared at my palms, unbelieving of what I had just accomplished.

The atmosphere was broken by the beeping of my cell phone. It was Clora. She wanted me to meet her back at Esuna for "an important talk", she claimed.

"Think she's there to chew on you for neglecting her?" Rejection teased.

"More like she's there to chew on me for no apparent reason."

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"What took you so long? Didn't you use a town teleporting scroll?" Clora goaded me.

"Walking is good for one's health." Came my lazy reply.

Wandering listlessly about the large room that oozed varying shades of blue, I was here with Clora to meet the _de facto _leader of Esuna, Grendel the Really Old; he having called for an urgent meeting, I was unceremoniously forced to be present. Judging by the colour scheme of his workplace though, Grendel the Really Emotional would have been a better name for him.

Unfiltered light poured through from the magnificent glass window, gently bathing the room in soft, relaxing warmth. The evening glow presented Esuna in a most flattering way- the rich greenery seemed to bask in the beautiful orange; the majesty of the scenery was further enhanced by the crystal clear view through the thoroughly cleaned windows. It was like viewing a real life portrait.

"Your health won't be of much use if you keep flinging yourself into dangerous situations."

"And this is coming from the damsel in distress?"

Clora was just about to protest, when the door creaked open. I turned to face the disturbance, only to see a rather tall figure enter the room.

"Ah. Good that you are here, Clora. Now where is…oh." Grendel's attention seemed to focus on me.

I scrutinized his appearance readily. An oversized white hat lethargically drooped over his nose, and below that, a thick forest of white facial hair surrounded his tiny mouth. A set of white overalls hung from his shoulders, and at his sides, he held a single wooden staff and a glowing blue ball.

He looked unimpressive. Nevertheless, he had a powerful aura surrounding him bearing indication to his massive power.

With a gentle lift of his head, he established eye contact with me. His eyes seemed laze about, a lazy stare permeated through my piercing one. And yet, it seemed to see through me, managing to be both nonthreatening yet sharp. Tiny wisps of haze seemed to cloud around his outstandingly brown pupils, effectively granting him a degree of mystery.

"It's been quite awhile…Laran Azealaxis." Those words invoked agonizing pain that penetrated my thoughts, akin to _slicing my mind_. Inside, a booming voice exacerbated the pain- it was laughing.

My knees buckled, but I managed to catch myself before I crumpled onto the ground.

"What….did you call me?" I uttered shakily.

"Laran Azealaxis. Son of the Legendary Gideon Azealaxis. I haven't set eyes on you…well, since you were a child of no more than 12!" There was a spark in the eyes of Grendel, akin to how a scientist showed his interest in a test subject?

At this point, Clora had hastily stood up, her flustered face looking over from me to Grendel; causing her short hair to swing about. A wave of confusion flashed over her soft features.

Gideon Azealaxis. I instinctively heard a voice sound out crystal clear in my mind, "Remember the lineage of the Azealaxis family. You are special."

"Special indeed!" That booming voice in my head made me tremble in pain.

I then dropped to one knee, uncontrollably. I winced as the mental strain increased twofold. It took every ounce of my strength to keep myself from turning into a slobbering mess.

"We have much to discuss. " It was the last line that I heard before I blacked out- that malevolent chortling echoing deep in my mind. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard it utter one line.

_Give me your soul._

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"The attack on Esuna is to be temporarily delayed."

"What? Why?"

"The course of action has only been pushed back by a day or so. The council has agreed that our newest brother should be invested before the invasion takes place, such that he too may view its splendor."

"Ah, if only we too were allowed to participate in this _purging_."

"Patience. The Council must have their reasons."

And with a swift wave of his arm, their conversation ended; the two cloaked figures retreating away from each other.

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Clora watched helplessly as the body of the strange teenager crumpled before her eyes. Meanwhile, Grendel simply stood at one side, folding his arms expectantly as Laran collapsed before them.

"What the…hey! Hey!" Clora seemed to freak out- her eyes bulging wide open, fingers frantically running through her thick hair.

"It's okay. He's just experiencing some-" Grendel's sentence was cut short by the sudden image of the boy in disheveled hair getting onto his feet. He dropped his weapon onto the wooden floor, having the thick two-handed sword fall with a thick thump.

"Laran! Are you okay?" Concern filled Clora's face as she hastily approached to support him.

"No! Clora! Get away!" Grendel suddenly snapped out of his daze.

She stopped, a single step away from the recovering boy. Clora spontaneously spun around to face Grendel, and back again to face Laran.

She was just in time to look up into the face of the boy that she had met less than a week ago. Confusion splashed over her as her mind registered the sight of his Terran Eyes up close- those thin slits of black in red pools of scarlet -, and a deep, blood-red scar running across from above his left eye to under his right.

She was in such shock that she didn't even feel his fist burrowing deep into her stomach. She flew a full 5 metres before colliding heavily with the floor, sliding to a stop.

Grendel snapped his fingers immediately, enveloping Clora in a protective magic guard buble. He turned to face the disheveled figure, just as he snarled vehemently.

Laran thrust his left arm towards Grendel- invoking a thin lightning spear to burst forth from the underside of his wrist, speeding towards the wizard,

Dodging it effortlessly, Grendel raised both his hands. Snapping his fingers once again, he formed horizontal L shapes with both hands- directly facing Laran.

"Elemental Composition, Ice and Lightning." Grendel whispered impassively.

Twin beams of Ice and Lightning elemental energy; one from each hand, sprung from the castor…

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Fire crackled loudly, arousing me from my deep slumber.

I opened my eyes cautiously, expecting to find myself on a mattress…but instead I found myself against the rocky floor of a cave. I slowly sat up, my arms strangely numb; I extended them over the nearby campfire instinctively for warmth.

A few feet away from me stood a man. He stared off into the distance, intently watching the night sky. Just where was I?

I opened my mouth, intending to speak when I was cut off before I even began.

"Laran." His voice was thick and emotion-filled.

I struggled to speak, but somehow my lips remained unmovable. Who was this man? Why was I here?

"The road ahead is fraught with difficulties. I am going to tell you the truth. About your mother, about your brother and most importantly about you. Your lineage. Your future. Listen well."

And at this moment, everything before me shattered, not unlike a mirror.

I was left falling through darkness, unable to control myself. The familiar feeling of dread overcame me as I plummeted, and a crackling voice screeched with laughter, accompanied by a booming chortle. Gravity seemed to multiply its effect on me, I couldn't even move my body, couldn't scream in fear, couldn't save myself…

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I awoke violently, jolting from my slumber as a bucket of freezing cold water splashed unto me. I could feel my heart hammering violently as my senses were involuntarily sharpened.

Taking a deep breath, I regained my composure rather quickly. My heart still pounding, I surveyed the situation. I appeared to be in a jail cell. The cell seemed to be reminiscent of the ones built during medieval times- it stretched to a grand height of over 100 metres, and sunlight filtered through several tiny metal rungs at the ceiling. The actual floor area of the cell was painfully scarce- there was barely enough room for two people to stand next to each other, and there was an iron door not too far away.

I started to move…only to be jerked back. My eyes shot to my arms, and then my legs. I was cuffed and chained to the wall. I looked around anxiously. Rejection was nowhere to be found.

From the few streaks of sunlight, I could barely make out a tall figure- he stood before me, his jaws opening and closing. I could not comprehend the weird noises that were coming from him. It was then that I noticed that my Terran Eyes were activated, and that I was experiencing everything in slow motion.

I focused for a split second, willing my eyes to return to normal. Strangely enough, there was actually quite a struggle within myself in order to force my eyes back to normal. Could it have been something to do with my nightmare?

The shadow of a palm slapped me across my right cheek. Hard. Still groggy from my brutal awakening, this sudden force took me completely from surprise.

"Who sent you?" The voice was sibilant and composed, with an accent less tone.

"Wha..What? What are you talking about?" I managed to stutter.

The same palm came back on its return journey- a vicious backhand landed itself on my left cheek. I winced uncontrollably, my cheeks were already smarting.

I forcefully jolted my body about, only to have the cuffs cut deep into my flesh. I grimaced, trying to fight through the pain and break free. My efforts were futile. Meanwhile, the guard watched emotionlessly.

"Who sent you to assassinate our lord?" He repeated himself calmly.

"What are you talk-" I hadn't even finished my sentence when the door creaked open. With it came a sudden beam of luminosity, and with it arrived a familiar, wizened figure.

Blinking to rid myself of the sudden rush of light, I found that the figure was Grendel.

"My lord." The guard knelt immediately, his face almost kissing the ground.

With a snap of his fingers, the cuffs binding my limbs to the chains snapped open with a distinct "click". Grendel nodded towards the guard to signify that he had the situation under control, before signaling that I should follow him.

Rubbing my wrists which were bleeding badly, I made haste to follow Grendel's lead. Once out of the cell, I quickly caught up to him.

"What the hell happened?" I needed some answers. I struggled to follow him as he swerved sharply into a brightly lit hall. One moment, I was having a conversation with the most important man in Esuna, the next; I was chained up in a dank cell to reward me for trying to assassinate him. Brilliant.

"You tried to kill me." Came his matter-of-factly reply, prompting me to open my mouth to protest, when he cut me off. "But of course, you didn't mean to."

"Again, what the hell happened?"

"All your questions will be addressed in due course. For now, we need to get you changed up. Less talk, more speed."

I looked down at my clothes. They were dirty and ragged. I hadn't had a change of clothes since…I left Xenious' residence. Maybe Grendel was right, I did have to slow down and listen to him. After all, he did seem to know all the answers.

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Raccious opened his eyes. Down in the Twilight Valley, he couldn't tell the difference between closing them and keeping them open.

"Sight." Raccious commanded, snapping his fingers. Immediately, he felt a small sting on the back of his neck. That spot radiated heat for a split second, and the spell was cast.

Raccious' blindness exploded into an unclear vision with badly saturated colours. It was like having night vision, with a certain extent of colour.

"Raccious and Gramanol. Meet at the warp room to assist Wyvern with the invasion of Esuna immediately."

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End file.
